Some days...

...you just feel like Neely O'Hara.

You know, just fucking done with everyone, including all the Helen Lawson's in the world.

Unlike Neely, I need not escape into booze and pills.  Sometimes you just gotta find something else to focus on.

Like the President and his embarrassing vocabulary.  Last week he announced that the U.S. was developing a "Super Duper" new missile that was "Super Duper" fast.  Like "ten times faster" than anything the Soviets, oops, I mean Russians, or Chinese have.  I mean after using Super Duper, we know he is thinking like a five-year-old.  I just don't hope he's still in office when he starts sucking his thumb. But then again, we may be there right now.

Like the October rollout of Schitt's Creek, season six, IF that when they roll it out in the U.S.  C'mon, David, we're tired of waiting.

Like this miserable weather, we are having.  We had three days of May and now its fucking March again.  What the hey, Mother Nature.

Like the people in grocery stores who are not abiding by the six-foot of space rule.  I am beginning to feel that in the not too distant future, there are going to be 100 of us left in the world who played by the rules.

Like this high school friend who makes disastrous life decisions over and over and over, because they have no idea that there is a future and no idea how to plan for it.  I get these questions like "Should I invest everything in widgets?"  I say no, they do anyway, and then the widget market collapses they lose everything.  Then they call up and say "Should I declare bankruptcy," and you say no, but they do anyway.  Then they call up and whine that they can't rent an apartment because of the bankruptcy on their credit bureau, and on and on and on. The latest is "I am going to raid my IRA because I am going to be sixty next year and...."  And NO!  Your retirement money is for RETIREMENT.  It's not something you saved because someone has given you some kind of cocky locky idea to spend it all on something silly.  I love my friends. I am loyal. But stop calling me for advice, not taking the sound advice I am giving, and then asking for remedial advice over and over again because you aren't listening.  And no, you can't move into my retirement villa when that time comes because you blew it all when you never thought you would need it later.

Cookie has a limit, you know.

Now I am going to pour myself a Cranberry Juice Cocktail from the Oceanspray bottle. add some seltzer, bundle up, and go outside to look at the Iris bed in the back yard. 

Cookie needs that moment of Zen that keeps Cookie from becoming Neely O'Hara.