Mundane-day, Tewest-day, Hump-day, Thirst-day, and Fry-day is also the day Dog Boy is supposed to arrive. Well, unless plans have changed, that is. I’d understood that he and the stinkpig were going to get married on the fifth, but I’m pretty sure the courthouse is closed on Sunday, and the Christian churches are generally busy that day, so unless DB is Jewish (he’s too New Age flaky), they’re either getting married on the fourth, or he’s taking her back to TX unmarried. I don’t give a flying fuck whether they get married or he just stuffs her and her smelly junk in the car and leaves ten minutes after he arrives, just as long as she’s gone. Gone, gone GONE. I do wonder, though, whether he is aware that if they are married and he is working, the state of Texas isn’t exactly going to fall all over itself to pay for her crazy counselling and brain-soup medications. Illinois pays now because she hasn’t insurance and hasn’t anyone else they can force to do it. Actually, now that I think of it, I dimly recall the stinkpig having said that his job was temporary, lasting until October. Perhaps that’s why they waited even after she got sacked from Future Criminals of America and had no (absolutely no) reason to hang around here. If that is so, it should be interesting; unless he entirely sponged off that Ronald-whomever guy whose name comes up on the caller ID, then he can’t have saved that much money in only four months. No matter how good a friend ol’ Ron may be, he’s not going to want DB and Stinky Peterson living with him for long, so they’ll have to get a place of their own. If DB hasn’t found another job (dunno), then they’re fucked because hell will freeze over before she’ll get off her lazy arse and try to get another job. She wouldn’t have got the one she did if I hadn’t pushed her (I wrote her fucking resume, stamped and addressed the envelope for it, coached her for the interview and DROVE her to the damned thing); she was whining about killing herself because the bills for credit cards that Bill didn’t know she had were starting to come in and I said, “Well, if you won’t come clean and tell him about them, then it seems to me that the simplest thing would be to get a job and pay them”. She didn’t want to work, doesn’t like to work and hadn’t worked in 25 years, but she applied because she had to save her own arse. If DB is willing to support her, you can bet your sweet patootie that she’s going to sit on her slab-arse all day and let him do it. He’ll even get to come home from work to cook supper and clean up after the six mangy stray cats she’ll drag home. She did that once and got away with it. She’ll do it again if she can. Good luck, Dog Boy–in five days, her lazy, worthless arse is all yours and if you don’t want it, then give it to someone else because I’m not letting it back in here!