While stopping at the local SuperMegaBigBoxMart for camping groceries, I ran into one of the personality types that just gets under my skin:  The Helpless Human Being.

Ladies and gentlemen, no-one has been responsible for you since your mama taught you to not make messes on the good carpet.  There are several things that an adult in our society must be emotionally and psychologically able to do, including:

• Shop for groceries
• Pay for groceries, either with cash, check, or plastic
• Pump gas
• Cross the street without being killed
• Not make messes on the carpet when not supervised

Doing the soft voiced “Fiddle dee dee, I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers” Katie Scarlett O’Hara imitation is not useful, it’s annoying.

Coming to the check out with a basket of stuff, arguing with both the cashier and the manager over the price of your shampoo, toilet paper, tuna fish, peanut butter, potato chips, and personal lubricant, and then not knowing how to properly fill out a check or use your debit card is assenine.  Doing all this while talking in that sweet, soft, Southern accent in an attempt to elicit sympathy from said cashier and manager is manipulative.

It’s not the 1950’s anymore.  Computers and such are a part of living.  Learn to work with them, or hire someone to do your errands for you.  Either stop acting stupid and start taking care of yourself, or start going to someone else’s store.

Irish Woman: What did we bring to drink?
Me: We’ve got sodas, Bud Lite, Sam Adams, Woodford, and Southern Comfort.
Girlie Bear: What’s Southern Comfort? I’ve never heard of that.
Me: Sweetheart, if it weren’t for Southern Comfort, you might not exist.
Girlie Bear: …… Ewwwwwww!

Base camp established. A full 75% of what was packed was necessary.

Casa de Oso, the portable version

My new kitchen. Only cost 5 boxes of .22.

I have sent the older kids to get firewood. Irish Woman is trying to get BooBoo to take a nap. I am becoming acquainted with India Pale Ale.

Not going to be a lot of posting here for the next few days.  Irish Woman and I are taking the family up to Indiana for the annual Hoosier Hoedown.  All of her Indiana family is getting together for the weekend at one of the lakes.

This year, my goal is to enjoy myself and not come home a raving lunatic.  Toward that end I’ve simplified what we’re taking, told the kids that dad doesn’t have a filter if they get on his nerves, and am stopping at the liquor store before we cross the state line.

Y’all have a good weekend!

This Ain’t Hell points out another reason why I will never live in a subdivision or anywhere else that has a Home Owner’s Association.

No offense, but I don’t like my neighbors enough to let them tell me how my house will be designed or painted, where I will park my vehicles, or how often I mow my grass.  Politely point out something you object to and have a rational discussion with me, and the worst that will happen is we will agree to disagree.  The first time someone stands on my porch and demands I change how I keep up my property is the last time they walk on without a limp.  The good Lord made axe handles for a reason.

My goal is to live far enough out in the country that I can pee off of the porch and the only person who will object is Irish Woman.

Oh, and if you’re worried that a smaller house that’s accessible to someone with this disabled vet’s condition will exert downward pressure on your property values, then you know precisely diddly over squat about the current housing market.