Dreaming of Flossie

Ya'll might remember my neighbor Dubya who lives across the street. His step daughter (rumored to be his real daughter) by his wife that he never lived with who got stabbed to death by her drug dealer boyfriend back a few years ago is the $30 dollar hoochie mama that I've mentioned from time to time. Dubya has another daughter who lives in Florida for most of the year and comes up to visit every summer. I think we decided to call her Flossie when I wrote about her before, but it's been a while. Let's just go with that.

I thought I saw Flossie standing out in Dubya's yard the other day, enjoying the estate, strolling by the pool and it made me nervous. I hate it when she comes to town. Her husband is short, hairy and looks like he should be hanging out under bridges frightening billygoats. I won't comment on the children, just because they're children and God Bless'em they can't help it.

Anyways, it must have stressed me out, worrying that I'd seen her in town because I dreamed about her last night. The Amazon and I have been discussing having the Big City Sunday newspaper delivered instead of trying to get up early enough to get to town. The papers in the machines go really fast here, you almost have to be standing there waiting when they come to fill them up if you want one. This combination of things must have crept into my head because last night I dreamed that Flossie was standing in front of my house demanding money for her paper route.

I knew immediately that I had to be dreaming because Flossie and her husband are what I like to refer to as professionally unemployed. It's a popular career choice around here, the tricks and schemes of which have been handed down in some families for generations. I don't mean to imply that most of the residents of Frog Pond Holler don't work, most are upstanding, tax paying citizens but there is a fair portion of the population who have raised the art of surviving without a job to a new level. This has been a topic of discusstion between Lulu and I lately as we watch the unemployed drive up and down the road all hours of the day and night in their fairly new SUVs, while we struggle to keep a vehicle pieced together. We've often contemplated that we must be doing something wrong.

Time to tackle some housework, later Taters!!


Anonymous said...

"to sleep, perchance to dream, aye there is the rub . . ."


Mahala said...


craftyhala said...

you're funny :)
I say later taters too...