Reverse snowbird
The Book of Faces’ Memories feature is enough to make me crazy.
The memories it sends of Mom are really puzzling. Never vacations or happy moments. More like snarky shit from Messenger — photos of people we hate or screenshots we captured but didn’t want to be public.
Then there was the Thanksgiving memory from last year of some dumb meme … and me saying I bought turkey for nine cats.
Nine.
Cocoa, Belly and Magic, of course. Meatball, Fancy, Whiskers, Amelia, Smalls, Poppins and the gray kitty I called Harry (as he was kind of a “Spare” who showed up inconsistently).
I miss those kids.
It’s been since April that I fed them. Mostly they don’t even look up when I drive by anymore.
Mostly.
The other night, I was coming home late and saw a brand-new kitty out there. Super pretty. Gorgeous coat.
A part of me felt happy that this beautiful creature was here.
Another part was sadder than ever. Like, why come here where no one is allowed to love you.
Rita had a big blue storage tub out there with a hole cut in it. I would guess something to protect them from the rain. Or maybe to house food. I don’t know.
What I do know is it was out there for three days before one of these dinglberries complained about it.
I keep reading that all the MAGAT assholes are moving to Palm Beach en masse to be around their roach king.
I’m also reading that <a href=”https://www.newsweek.com/florida-home-sales-plunge-1991806″>people are fleeing this area in droves</a>.
You say correlation; I say causation. Tomato, tomatohe.
Just what we need. More illiterate fuckheads who vote for dictators and tyrants.
I was checking out real estate in (redacted). Honestly it’s not that much more or less than around here.
Most people who come here are snowbirds. And look at me, about to go into reverse snowbird mode.
Thanks, America. You really couldn’t stand having a Black woman as president, could you.