Gimme a light

Neil Young, Crazy Horse, Pearl Jam–Why do I keep fuckin’ up

C. “You wanna pot of beans cooked?”
K. “Suits me.”

10 mins. later …
C. “I put the beans on to cook.”
K. “Good girl.”

20 mins. later I smell gas …
K. (Loudly) “I smell gas; did you light the stove?”
C. (Smartassedly) “I told you I put the beans on to cook!”
C. (Back in kitchen) “I didn’t turn it far enough to light it!”
K. (Very loudly) “Don’t light it!
C. “Why?”
K. “The freakin’ house is full of gas; you’ll blow us up!”
C. “Oh, ok.”
While the house cleared, we ended up sitting on the porch in a storm of pollen; oak trees were blatantly having sex in public! My eyes soon went blurry and the rapid-fire sneezing began. I am now typing this with my nose almost touching the monitor so I can read what I am saying. Allergy drops in my eyes, allergy pills in my belly, nose spray shot up my honker, and a damp neckerchief around my face to help filter some of the insidious yellow poison. Even my tinnitus is on the rampage!
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Have a pollen-free Worsh day, dear ones.
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