Heather said I could have whatever I wanted today. After consideration, I decided that our house will now be called a compound. I’ve always wanted a compound and now I can act more strangely than ever because everyone who lives in one is expected to be bonkers.
The best part of Fathers Day is being able to do whatever you want. Being retired, I can do that most any day. Example: Yesterday, Heather asked me what I was doing. I said, “Nothing.” She said, “That’s what you did yesterday!” I said, “I’m not finished yet.”
I wish I lived closer to my kids and grandkids so we could gather for holidays like this and others, but I haven’t wanted to do it yet. Why? Because they live in Seattle, Washington, Meridian, Mississippi and Cumming, Georgia. We would need to live an equal distance from all of them, to be fair.
That puts us directly in a harvest field in Southeast Kansas. I don’t think squatters rights still exist, so we would have to keep a very low profile. That wouldn’t become a problem until harvest time. I’m not sure we’d be able to hide in the field after the combine cleared it. We could pretend to be scarecrows, but for how long?
We’d get thrown in jail at the nearest town, probably get a short prison term which would separate us for a couple of years, which she would probably be happy about. We’d have indoor plumbing again, eat meals instead of just corn, and finally wash off the pesticides. We wouldn’t be able to go anywhere for a pretty long while which kind of defeats the purpose and we certainly couldn’t go back to the field.
I think we’ll just stay in Utah. That will have to be close enough.
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