Opinion » The Rant

The Rant

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I hereby solemnly swear that I will forever from this point stop wasting time thinking about things that I find irritating — Rachel Ray, Hummers, fast food commercials that claim great care is taken in its preparation, the people who are going to tear down the Nineteenth Century Club mansion on Union Avenue, Rand Paul, people who voted for and support Rand Paul, Nancy Grace and anyone who actually likes her and watches her intentionally, having to wait for the next season of Mad Men (it is so painful to sit by idly and surmise what's going to happen with Don in the future), people who drive 90 miles per hour in the city but come to a complete stop at railroad tracks and spend minutes slowly creeping over them only to floor their accelerator and resume flying down the street once over the tracks, guns, gun shows, gun laws that allow anyone to own guns and carry them openly, telemarketers of any kind, people who never stop talking, roadside memorials, people who plan things to do on vacation, book clubs, most bumper stickers, Tom Cruise, and songs that include the sound of sirens which makes me constantly pull over to the side of the road careening my head around looking for the fire truck or ambulance — if someone will please just anonymously nominate my house and yard for one or more of those HGTV shows during which the homeowner leaves for dinner and comes back home to a completely renovated house and newly landscaped lawn. The reason I need this is because my humble abode could use a lot of work, and I don't know how to do anything that requires more than the skill it takes to hang a picture on the wall, and I'm not even very good at that.

I watch these shows where that Jason Cameron guy landscapes — and quite nicely, I might add — something like eight yards in eight hours with a big crew of people, and I think to myself that if he could do that, why can't I? And then I look around my yard and think back to the last time I tried to trim a bush with electric hedge trimmers and almost lost part of my foot. The last time I mowed my own yard, and this is the God's honest truth, I ended up being very close to having gangrene in one knee and had to elevate my leg above my heart for three days. I planted okra in my backyard one year and it was like something out of a science fiction movie. Everything in my backyard grows a foot each day. I have no idea why. It's so bad now that I can't see more than two feet into it and the rest is just jungle. There could be an entire family living out there, and I would never know it.

Oh, and speaking of entire families: I mentioned on this page a few weeks ago that there was a cute little raccoon visiting me every evening around dusk on my front porch and sitting very close to me eating what happened to be left of the cat food from earlier in the day. I nicknamed him Gerald and we had a nice little time until I decided I had best nip that in the bud for fear that there might be some friction between Gerald and my cats. Well, what I didn't realize is that Gerald is president of the Memphis Chapter of the NRA (National Raccoon Association) and that he has invited all the group's members to live underneath my house and all come into said house every night by any means possible. First, they began coming into the mudroom on the back of the house through a tiny hole they managed to bore through the back door. It was easy enough to shoo them away and I got my brother to nail a new piece of wood over the hole. Then, every night for a few nights, they found a way to come into the kitchen and make their way through the entire house with him chasing them with a net. Have you ever awakened in the middle of the night to get a drink of water and had to run through the house with a hysterical raccoon in a net? Pretty hard to go back to sleep. I think all ports of entry are now affixed so that the raccoons can no longer come into the house, but I still think they are down in the crawl space playing poker, smoking cigars, drinking whiskey, and laughing at me as they plot their next move.

This is just one of the many reasons I need a bush hog, someone who knows what a bush hog is and how to operate one, someone who can knock out walls and give me an open floor plan while I'm having dinner at Bari, replace the missing window pane in my bedroom (the last time my brother and I tried to replace a window pane the neighbors almost called the police thinking that when we smashed out the remaining bits of glass someone was breaking into the house), unclog the bathtub that has been clogged on and off for five years with no end in sight if I'm left to remedy it, and just do an overall renovation on my entire house and yard with precision and ease and for free. Jason Cameron, WHERE are you?

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