A Thin Veneer of Civilization

If I ever write my autobiography, this would be the title.

Not being the most social person in the world, living in a small town is a shock. Everyone here smiles at you on the street. Strangers start conversations. People drop by uninvited. Neighbors come over to introduce themselves. People here are social and... nice.
It kinda freaks me out.

Unfortunately this also means people mouth their opinions for no reason. Like this morning, when some lady complained because Fred and I were in the "small dog" section of the dog park. When I pointed out that Fred met the height requirement to enter that section (which is clearly posted at the entrance), the lady said it was meant for little dogs (she made a height hand gesture which was slightly above her ankle). I said that isn't what the sign said and turned away.
Stuff like that.
***although I got my vengance by swiping her bag of tennis balls***


It also helps that the great equalizer (alcohol) is so damn cheap here. You can get retarded-blitzed at a bar for $10. I'm baffled why alcoholics and heavy drinkers would want to live in anywhere else.




On a completely unrelated note, it snowed this afternoon. Only a lite dusting but it was so beautiful to watch. I sat in my new old rocker in front of my picture windows and felt like I was viewing a giant snowglobe.