This morning I woke up on my mattress that has a tag on it that says removal of said tag is unlawful. (Yes, I know that tag isn’t meant for the consumer, but it started my post off so nicely.)
I threw off my non-flammable cover and turned off the clock-radio that was inexplicably tuned to National Public Radio, a station I loathe but I fund.
I looked out my double-paned UVC blocking windows that-I-was -urged-to-buy -in-order-to-get-a -tax-credit to see what kind of day it was. I noticed that it rained last night so I don’t have to sneak the sprinklers on in order to keep my landscaping alive, avoiding a fine.
I also noticed that my city-issued recycling bin had blown partly way down the street. It was just beyond my shed, the shed that can be no closer than 60 feet from the city street. The city street starts just beyond my mailbox which cannot be less than 3 feet high and no more than 4 feet high.
After the morning constitutional (heh) I flushed the federally mandated 1 gallon toilet – twice, and hopped into my lo-flo shower and while throwing the towel over the shower stall I broke one of those federally mandated light bulbs.
After I cleaned the mercury up, per federal law, I deposited it my garbage can which cannot be put curbside until the morning of garbage pick-up. I hid the light bulb contents inside a bag of potato peels to avoid the illegal disposal fine.
My errand today was to go to Home Depot to buy a sawzall so I can cut the pipe sticking up out of the ground that shows where my buried oil tank is – the tank that was once legal, illegal, then legal, and now illegal again. I have to do it today because no power tools are allowed to be used outside on Sunday, and tomorrow I have to get my brand new car, that has 6 miles on it, inspected to see if it is roadworthy. I’ll be doing the speed limit, not talking on my phone, eating, my dog will be restrained in the back seat and I’ll make sure I don’t call the guy who cuts me off a faggot.
Coming home I took a different route to avoid the police roadblock that was checking reggies, inspections, seat belt compliance and offensive political bumper stickers. I don’t like going the alternate way because it’s where the illegals live and they play in the street, and if I accidentally hit one my life is over, especially if I once rented a Cheech and Chong movie from Netflix.
The stress of this is so great I usully have to take a prescription pill when I get home, and then hope it works because my health care plan, by law, only allows generics.
I have to run. I want to barbecue in order to drown my sorrows in this sudden loss of liberty with the latest SCOTUS ruling. I’m going to smoke the meat with some nice Madagascar Ebony and have a 32.oz coke. What?????