Don't Shoot!

I am getting a tardy start to the holiday.  I slept in incredibly late.  Now the sun is out and the land is beaming.  What a world. 

I am wondering if the trash men will come today?  The street is lined with green plastic garbage containers, but it may be wishful thinking.  Somehow all the holidays seem to land on my garbage days.  It is incredible, really. 

Maybe it was the coconut oil that put me so at rest.  That is what the websites say.  It seems to cure everything and strips you of unwanted fat besides.  It is a miracle that only a few people know about apparently.  So I bought some as I always like to be an insider.  Extra virgin, first cold press.  Last night, I ate a spoonful, then I rubbed it on my face and neck and hands and feet and then ran my fingers through my hair.  It is a moisturizer, anti-fungal and anti-bacterial.  So the claims go.  It reduces bad cholesterol and heals the pancreas.  There is just about nothing it doesn't do.  I can't wait to have sex again.  We will smell like 19th century Tahitians. 

Why do miracles always come too late?  Why, indeed?

I haven't any more time to write.  I am expected at the big celebration near my studio.  The whole affair is boring and bad, but it is a social event not to be missed in my circles.  An absence, I say, would be noted.