i still work too much.
that's nothing new.
but,
when i get home,
i just simply look forward to not getting sh!t on
while i'm in the rustic righteous really-real embrace
of my special spaces, better known as the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's not really an unreasonable expectation, is it?
a man's home is his castle,
a better man's home is his fortress,
but in both instances,
there's an implied idea of refuge from literal and metaphorical feces.
word up.
except,
the nest above my door,
the baby birds of which abandoned ship a month ago,
has now got a whole new other other 'nother clutch of crapping critters occupying it.
...and the crapping part is definitely aimed at my head.
gross.
they didn't get me, yet,
but while i was repotting ivy plants,
and running in and out and back and forth between the front dooryard,
and the back sunroom,
the little chirpy chicklettes were dropping curdled custard glops down
en masse, in an attempt to leave a skidmark or two on my person.
look at 'em:
however,
i do have to say that even with them dumping on my doorstep,
the idea that this woodsly goodsly redoubt is a safe place
for flora and fauna to flourish on the fringes of the forest feels pretty good.
in the interest of real, good, and continued life, my casa is theirs...
until they get some beter than fledgling feathers,
in which case, they'll flip the script, get dope, and F* off.
wow!
the thing is neighbors-
nature wins,
but the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress leads the league in assists.
i've got birds, bees, flowers, trees
and a big ol' batch of mutha-lickin' cookies in the oven.....
it's ALL really happening over here,
and there's no better place to stage the whole big dramabombing action;
never quiet, never soft.....
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