It's been a while since I've blogged. Maybe today it's time to kvetch. I went to the post office and it was closed--no sign, no indication of anything interesting having taken place. Even the windows were mirror-like. I was staring at myself in dire need of stamps.
A man walking down the street was noticing that his destination would not yield him his needs either. He said to me, "I think they're supposed to move across the street." So we both looked fervently at the new building across the shabby street. No post office to be found.
Then he had the newsworthy idea that public works operations would be closed today because of the death of the man who was forgetful before he forgot to use the toilet. He had early onset Alzheimer's while working as the "President." Perhaps his lack of empathy with those like himself--his self-hatred and fear caused him to close so many homes for the mentally fragile and infirm. That is his what I remember about him. It's worth blogging about since his good buddy Margaret Thatcher spoke at his wake or whatever. She has had two strokes to the brain. It's always been my belief that one dies from the breakdown of what one has lacked most power and strength.
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