I’ve let this post age in a couple of days, some things really need a bit of time to settle before you speak of them. That’s the dog washing thing, dog washing being both literal (the poor mutts both needed a bath, and both were very well behaved) and symbolic: I copped an attitude and did a Tim Taylor style afternoon of cleaning. Tim Taylor, you know, Tim Allen’s character on the comedy show. More power! Phooeey on the Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner, fire up the shop vac, and the air compressor, spool out the hose, set the BIG fans to blow out the front door, we’re fixing to put the dirt right back where it came from. Yea, spring cleaning man fashion. A successful afternoon of kick ass, the dust bunnies never had a chance. And the little farts had been getting so bold as to be setting up toll booths and trying to charge me admittance to places in my own house. They won’t be back for a good long while, I kicked their round little rumps right up between their swastika shaped ears. Victory is sweet.
I just wish I could have a victory over the grandpa bug to match. But it isn’t looking promising. I got my feelings hurt, deeply hurt on that subject, and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it but lock on a stoic face, laugh on cue and endure. She was trying to be funny, had no clue what she was doing to me, and I forgive her. I do love the lass, she’s been nothing but good to my daughter, and for her, she is a true daughter in love. But even the folks we love can hurt us, and she did.
No one who is actually gay can possibly understand what a case of that bug feels like. The same things that make them gay put it beyond their reach. I ‘m sure there are things of comparable impact going the other way, but being straight and a parent those things are no doubt beyond my reach. Just an unhappy fact of life. So, I suppose since I can’t cure the disease I’ll keep treating the symptoms, adopting this kid or the other to mentor, doing the best I can for them just like I did for my own and hoping to God whatever turned mine lesbian isn’t something I did, might do again. The grandpa bug is a real bitch and bummer, and yea, I’ve got a case of it, a bad case. Oh, well. If it gets to bad I can always go trucking, and take myself out of reach. Westbound and down (way, way down), loaded up and truckin…
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