And it culminated in an arrest. Not mine, of course. I sat there, smoked cigs, drank beer, and watched the coppers do their work. Typical white-trash domestic squabble, fueled by beer and sun and river and probably dope but that’s a guess. That’s the second in two years. Arrest, not domestic squabble. Those are regular. If this arrest goes the same way as the first, I’ll own a 199something Lincoln Mark Whatsit and a new Target tent. Except I think she gave her car keys to her girlfriend.

Tomorrow, the church people and their Memorial Weekend baptism. I’m going to keep a secret count of the number who try to negotiate the price. Church peeps love to dicker. And they’re trashy, too, like their Lord is going to spirit their Sprite cans and paper napkins to the dumpster. My Lord never did…I like to think that’s the reason He brokered a deal with the Boy Scouts and church felllowship halls. “Take only memories”, blah blah blah.

All right, then…