Gettin’ Purty Is Weird. Plus Another Topic.

It appears I opened up a can of beauty worms when I let Suzanne put makeup on me a few days ago. She somehow suckered me and Bow Tie o’ the Day into letting her slather this facial mask gunk on my face last night. (The bow in my hair is actually my own touch. It’s how I keep my head hairs out of my eyes.) I can attest to the fact that it was fun peeling off the mask after it had dried. I managed to peel it off in one piece, which I am extremely proud of. Was this mask enough to calm Suzanne’s current cosmetology bug? I think not, because she then polished my fingernails with a breathtaking emerald color– except for the nail on my ring finger which is always painted purple, whether my other fingernails are painted or not.

There’s a national anti-domestic violence campaign called Put The Nail In It, meaning to end something once and for all.  Its signature symbol is the purple ring-finger nail. When anyone asks about my nail, it gives me an opportunity to talk to them about the importance of the issue. See, I can be serious. In fact, I’m serious about anything that affects the dignity and safety of human beings. And dogs, cats, etc., as well. I think it’s why we’re here on the planet.

I’ve never understood the question a lot of people have about why God allows suffering. To me, people are the ones who cause suffering, and so the right question is, “Why do WE allow suffering?” We created all the problems on the planet (except natural disasters), so it seems to me that our purpose is to learn how to clean up the messes we’ve made, and then create extraordinary solutions. Love your neighbor. Pray. Vote. Hope. Feed the hungry. Teach literacy. There are infinite ways to solve the chaos. Do whatever positive action you do. You can’t do everything, but you can do some things. It’s our responsibility to do what we can. To do any less than what we can should be unacceptable to us. Doing any less than what we can is what makes and allows suffering.

That’s my sermon, and I’m stickin’ to it.

Irreconcilable Differences Happen

Ah, Bow Tie o’ the Day is up early to say its sarcastic goodbye to the living room carpet. Out it goes this morning, and Suzanne and I– and the neckwear– shed only crocodile tears. We’ve hated it from the second we saw it. Even the ties lobbied to have it die– preferably a painful, gruesome death. That’s how much we all hate it.

And now you’re wondering why we have had such a universally disliked carpet in our home, I’m sure. Here’s the thing: When we bought the townhouse, it was new and almost finished. Another buyer before us had chosen all the paint and flooring and appliances. At the last moment, that buyer fell through. The very next minute, we walked into the picture. We loved the place, minus the cheap-ass carpet. We decided to live with the carpet cuz it was new, and at that point we weren’t sick enough of it to justify replacing it. But now, enough is enough. So that’s how we got here.

This photo is showing you my gangster hair and gangster face. I feel kinda like I’ve put a hit out on the carpet. I don’t have, nor do I need, a stereotypical early/mid-1900’s mob machine gun to dramatically off the carpet. And I’m not killing it myself. I don’t have it in my heart to kill anything, even if it is only hideous, cheap carpet. No, I might be The Godgodess around here, but I keep my hands pure by hiring flooring installers to the dastardly deed.

Bow Tie and I will pay our proper respects. We aren’t heartless. The carpet has served us, and it’s not its fault someone created it to be an inferior product. It has tried to do the best it could do with the meager means it was born with. I hope it enjoyed its time with us. We aren’t slap-happy to toss it like the garbage it is, but it’s time for us all to part ways. We’ll all shake hands and carpet fibers, and then we’ll go down our separate life-paths. We send it off into garbage dump oblivion in pretty good shape, and scarred with only two or three puppy-in-training pee accidents. 🐶