There's a reward at the end of this post. Probably.

I have an hour to kill before I can go pick up Jada from her surprise emergency trip to the vet that's scaring the ever loving fuck out of me, so I decided that this was a good time to write a blog post about...

I have no idea.

I could write about death, since that seems to be a pervasive theme of my 2014, but I don't really dig on morbidity unless you count my phase of loving black toenail polish and listening to Depeche Mode.

Which I don't.

I do, for the record, still love black toenail polish and am waiting extremely impatiently for my two lost toenails to regrow so that I can make all 10 toes look as busted as the few that remain.

My feet are still fucked from JMT, y'all, is what I'm trying to say.

I have two missing toenails, two blackish purplish soon-to-be-gone toenails, one warped toenail and five semi acceptable toenails that would look a lot more acceptable with a coat of shiny black polish.

As Bubba would say, "Oh my goth."

He's hilarious.

I could also write about work, because it's SO awesome at work and I love it SO much and it stresses me out SO much that I need an outlet for it, but I've never been a write-about-work blogger, so it's hard for me to do that now.

You tell me - would that even interest you? To hear about working in a greenhouse on a farm? Keep in mind that it is a farm mostly composed of greenhouses and herb crops and we don't have, say, a bunch of cute fuzzy animals and farm chic shit everywhere and my office is on a loading dock rather than, like, in a distressed red painted barn and I grow crops in a hydroponic system rather than in the dirt like I've been told "real" farmers do.

Just keep all that in mind and then make your decision: work talk or no?

I could write about why Jada's at the vet and how it was so super sudden and extra scary and how my heart has been breaking all day and I'm so fucking worried and Bubba's traveling for work and the two of us have been over-worrying all day long via Chat, but that'd be boring for you guys.

Or sad. And I don't like to write about shit that's boring and sad.

What about the holidays? KIDDING. Just saying that word made me throw up and curse Macy's and Costco.

And if you haven't seen what's happening at Macy's and Costco right now, then you and I could be friends. At least on Facebook. Because my friends have been posting pictures of what the inside of these two stores look like and it's scarier than when I first started watching Walking Dead.

I get scared during Walking Dead, OK, so shuttup.

TV! We could talk about TV! I mean, the series that are on TV and then go to Netflix or Amazon Prime or some other streaming service because we don't have regular TV anymore. Which I love.

I don't know why I held on to DirecTV or cable for so long. It's all a bunch of nonsense and lame content or good content saturated with stupid ads to the point that we can't even watch TV in hotels anymore.

We're spoiled by no commercials and on demand content of our choice.

So what if I watch Bob's Burgers every single day? And I binge watch series after series without going into the kitchen for a snack during the commercial breaks?

Oh wait - those are two awesome things. Yeah - fuck you, regular TV.

OK, so we talked about TV a little.

How about the garden? I mean, it's been so hot here and so dry that the summer garden has been long since pulled out and the winter garden planting is on hold until it's not seedling-melting temperatures anymore, but we could talk about the garden.

That's all I have to say about the garden: It's been hot. The garden can not be replanted until it's not so hot. HOT.

Have you heard that we're having an End of Days level drought out here in California and everyone's calling it the next Dust Bowl even though that kind of doesn't make sense but then if you think about it long enough it kind of does make sense? Yeah. It's hot and dry here and it's been that way for about three years and now shit's getting real.

Like, I've been driving over the same reservoir for the last three years on my way to Santa Cruz every day and that thing is vanishing before my very fucking eyes.

Soon the bridge over the reservoir is going to be pointless and kids being born around now are going to be saying, "Mommy, why is there a bridge here if it just goes over nothing?" And mommy will say, "Shut the hell up back there and try not to sweat because you can't take a bath for three more weeks."

It's dire.

But that topic, too, is sad and boring, so let's skip it.

NANOWRIMO! Let's talk about that.

I was going to do it this year. I even started an outline in Scrivener and started researching shit and behaving like someone who has done this shit before and then...reality.

I have no time for NaNoWriMo this year. I mean, if I wanted to ignore Bubba and Jada, not bathe, fall asleep and drown in my hydroponic system at work and/or alienate myself from all of society in the name of writing something about which I'm only remotely excited still, then yes, I'd have time.

But my response to all that which I just said is, No thank you.

Instead, I've agreed to be a NaNoWriMo mentor for my sister, who's doing it for the first time this year. I feel like that is a good midway point for me so that I don't feel like a complete abandoner of shit I love and also like a decent sister.

Two wins is better than one big bummer, I say.

And now it's time to go pick up Jada from the vet, so thank you for humoring this very long-winded time killer of a blog post and for your reward, I will write about whatever you want next time.

Seriously.

Throw a topic out there and I'll spin some bullshit for you.

Come on. You know you want it. Bullshit that is. Custom written bullshit.

Go.