May 20, 2006
I've been informed that my waste isn't being properly sorted, Diary. This time, not from my second wife. Yes, the Homeowner's Association heavies are on me once again. Apparently there are four different "classes" of plastics and none of them belong in the brown bin. I tried to plead my case but they didn't want to listen; to be fair I was a little sluggish in getting it out there. They simply handed me another yellow note and a calander of events. Mark it down, May 14 Ice Cream Social. If I go, I'll be wearing my Harvest Moon t-shirt and I'll be nude from the waste down. Manolo played me a song the other day that not only made me want to jump out a window, but I also think it may have cause permanent damage to the house system. I think its called "beautiful" and its by some English stalker posing as a musician. I had to clean out the works with two hours of Gram Parsons before anything sounded right. Manolo has just informed me that he will now be taking back the trash detail. He saw the note. Looks like I will be avoiding the kitchen for awhile. Stock the pond, Diary.