Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from saying every stupid thing I’ve ever said. That would probably cause a time paradox and I would cease to exist.
Though I think I’d be okay with that.
“The proper office of a friend is to side with you when you are wrong. Nearly anybody will side with you when you are right.” -Mark Twain
Truth
Dad is in the nursing facility now. He has three square meals a day, a roof over his head, and medical professionals to care for him. Dad, for now at least, is okay. Me? Well, I put out the call for a place to stay and nobody answered. That’s the kind of friends I’m stuck with. The don’t give a fuck unless they need something kind. So, I have no job, no income, a five thousand dollar funeral to pay for, and nowhere to live but dads truck. Yeah. I’m proper fucked. :(
