doom and gloom in every room

neighbors,
every once in a while,
right in the middle of a spate of not-so-great days,
comes a remarkably bad day.
one that makes all those other ones seem pretty tolerable,
even when you know they actually aren't...
hmmmmm.
but first, before a dissertation of the depths of my despair,
let me tell you about some treats-
i made a few dozen chocolate-peanut butter-fudge-frosted,
peanut buttery super-smooth, crazy moist,
semi-magical, molto-majestic cupcakes with my kids;
and we swirled that dark, decadent, rich and thick frosting on top,
in a four point blop pattern, with a central spire of that hot fire for added hottness,
but only after rolling the base layer of black gold in caramel turtle sprankles.
check the teleport:

see?
totally expert.
and, quite honestly, very tasty.
but,
there's complaining to be done,
and treats aren't goig to sway me from my true-life true storytelling times....
and so, without any further distractions, let me begin........

there aren't very many encouraging or hopeful things to say
about my six-day-a-week workplace situation.
most of my coworkers and i don't speak. at all, to each other;
hell,
one of them divorced me,
and subsequently derailed every in-place plan i'd prepared for my future,
yet she somehow still works twenty five feet away from me
to the wonderment and bewildered disbelief of every casual observer.
that's pretty cool, right?
no.
no it's not.
i mean,
maybe some folks like chasing funds, and losing time, starting over,
and working harder on less-rewarding projects for fewer compensations,
in order to barely preserve some semblance of material success?
i said maybe.
somewhere along the line,
between buying my dream house,
and then watching that dream, and many others,
take a surreal turn for the morose and moribund-
i managed to take a very interesting career,
with all of the accompanying privileges of artistic explorations of expression,
and turn it into a damned dirty job, just like anybody else's.
yuck.
somehow,
i effed up the fun parts, and kept all the tedious, tiresome, loathsome,
deplorable doo-doo buttery bits.....
and just to make it harder, and less-enjoyable,
and more competitive,
notably,
for this week's worsening diagnosis of critical mass and deplorable prospects-
we (and by we i mean almost NONE of us) have hired a new guy
to take away another 'nother slice of the ever-dwindling pie.
yup.
....now,
here's a relevant question, directly pursuant to this development:
if someone says 'they just want you to be happy',
and yet does everything possible to make that IMpossible,
do you still believe them?
well, if you do, you're reeeeallly really dumb.
....and i'm not that dumb,
the thing is,
i recognize words, and their meanings-
a fact which puts me at a disadvantage when conversing with folks
whose every sentence holds the incontrovertably inverse version of the verbs they're
purporting to be the actions that make positive reactions possible.
it's implausibly naive to presume that doing the exact opposite of anything resembling
helpfulness, gratitude, generosity, active participation, or appreciation,
will ever garner the overjoyous back-patting thanks that follow the aforementioned motions.
anyway,
yesterday was pure sh!t, from sun-up to well after dark.
however,
i had a brutally big, barbarically beautiful, bean-filled and bountiful burrito for lunch.
and even though i waited in a line out the F*ing door at chipotle, i still got to work on time.
although,
i did get pulled over for speeding.
and i did have two very tricky, difficult tattoos to attempt as soon as i got there.
what's the best part of a job that's become a chore?
when the chores are complicated by poor scheduling and indifferent desk help.
y'all ever have that happen?
you show up to a spectacularly sour sh!t-slap of sucky situations,
site-specifically sorted into sorties of shrapnel-shredding shell-shocked storytelling;
the shrill shilling sell-spiel from self-absorbed scatophages,
spilling their secrets as sordid scraps of superfluous policy??
no?
weird.
it happens over here ALL THE TIME.
so what do we do about that?
mostly,
i work harder, under worsening conditions,
due to presently unimprovable catch-22 caveats in my current calamitous contracts!
and that catch-as-catchall-can-22 in NO way resembles two elevens.
get it?
oh, c'mon.
all of that noise in my head,
all day, and all night, just for a space of my own in the woodsly goodness.
i have to sort of half-laugh at the convergence of circumstances that all seem hell-bent
on undoing the fragile fabric of  my Folk Life, here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
for instance,
after a day of demonic douchebaggery,
i came home to some site work designed to improve my property
through the removal of unruly wild wood and weeds.....
and the duder who did it, while i was en route to massachusetts did a great job,
.....
.....except,
it all really happened twenty feet from where he was supposed to do it.
like,
half of it isn't even on my land!
kaBOOMfire.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
hahahahahahhaha.
yup.
that's real.
my semi-sweet homecoming, to an empty house,
and the dreary prospect of an impending autumn
well away from my dear darling high-schoolers,
was totally activated by a grand finale of F*tard effrontery,
in the form of clear-cut crossings through other peoples' places.
better still,
the tractors and monster-mulchers ripped up the topmost roots
of all the great big elderly oak trees in between.
that's sort of the best part, really;
since that'll just start the slow decline of those mighty oaks,
and begin the process of an expensive tree removal next year.
yeah.
when they're gone, they're gone,
and even though there will be a discussion, that may very well become a dispute,
the trees won't just sprout back because my argument is the stronger one.
....
oh, and i had a cupcake for dinner.
it was delicious.
some days are better than others,
but few days are good days.
i endure,
and i exist,
and if that isn't the slowest form of suicide, i don't know what is.
to the casual observers' untrained eyes,
it may almost actually appear as if i'm just living my life;
let me assure you,
this is the most time-consuming stop-motion swansong swan-dive
into the bottom of the barrel.
real life, documented, in detail.
that's my goodbye note;
never quiet, never soft.....