"Is it just me, or is the feed getting a little overwhelming?"

I’m tired of living in this time we’re in.
No, no, I don’t want to die -sheesh.
I just want to go back to when I grew up, the late ’70s to early ’80s.

No social media. 
No bad news popping up every time you check your phone or computer.
No phones in your pocket. 
No computers in the house.

No dementia‑ridden idiot in the White House.
Just gently forget Nixon. I wasn’t even old enough to be aware of his term.
I don’t remember Ford either, but I do remember Carter and Reagan.

I miss a more gentle time.

What brought that on?
For the last week, every time my phone dings, it has news updates I haven’t figured out how to get rid of.
 Or I click on Facebook, and it’s been nothing but death, death, death.

Growing up, we got the paper once a week and listened to Walter Cronkite once a day. 
It wasn’t constant news being shoved up your nose.

Maybe I need a social media break, but I still have that phone yapping at me, unless someone knows how to get the news off of it 

Anyway, Thursday again. 
Town Day.
Nothing much to say about that. 
We buy our groceries, we buy the chickens their chow.
Sometimes we treat ourselves to coffee. 
Not this time.

My 1st and 2nd shift workers headed to work. 
My 3rd shift worker will be heading to work later.

Badger and I got to walk down to the creek. 
No dogs, but the Baptist was having their end‑of‑VBS carnival.
We have to walk right through their little old parking lot to get to our cemetery, and their parking lot was full of kids, parents, a bouncy house, and a fire truck.
We edged our way closer to Junk Yard Guy’s yard. 
His yard shares a border with the Baptist yard.
On the way back home, a little fellow was on his dirt bike. 
He rides on the dadblasted sidewalk, and mind you, we only have about two places that are actually sidewalk.
To escape him, I walked on the edge of the road. 
The road hasn’t been mowed since Moses came over on the Mayflower.
I hit something, it rolled, and I about busted my rear end.
A stupid walnut hidden in that tall grass.
We did make it home safely.

I can’t say anything about the day or evening.
Badger hid in her room once we got back, and it was just me, a hundred cats, and one large, drooly dog.
Sitting at my elbow, panting.
She’d better not need to use the bathroom. 
It’s dark out there, and Badger just took her.

The school’s having a yard sale tomorrow. 
I plan to be first in line.

I’m done for the night. 
I’ll take my pill, feed the stray and the three‑legged raccoon, then head to bed.