Expectation Can Be a Cruel Master.

 

We who live with a long term prospect can be expected to always inspect a less-than-solid person's scattershot approach. Once our vanity is appealed to, anyone who goes by the 'silent name' can be counted upon to issue a terse injunction against any and all soporific trailer plants. The word still irks, but sometimes, when a leak is upended and our suspicions confirmed, a three-day delay can be helpful, even if behind all notions of trust one can find a likable dingbat to harvest their fair share in the warbling hours just after the cars arrive, as if on cue. Even less so, our current Occupant, now that she rotates each limb in accord with a newfound spatial perdiguity, can be observed listening intently behind all of the men who remember to climb each wicket with a tooth and a nail on anyone's personal Eastern Seaboard.

Why do those who thrust mildly and who refuse to install a much needed railing brake in their Winter moulding, more often than not, insist on colliding gently when not impelled to retract a less-than-colorful account for the benefit of egregious time-servers without ever availing them or their, quite frankly, nervous spouses, of the chance to harness split-second technology in the  interest of generalized pudential neutrality? This is one of the many questions that occupied the attentions of our over worked staff of de-spaculated matrons. Some of them prefer fo sit with their feet pointed skyward while skewering lifelike opponents in their dream-laden voices of yore.

We feel primly afflicted by the notice we gain from slumping in a pale field of antique organ meats. Our wellness is not to be taken for granted in any event. A sanitized field hand is given to dust around our carpenter's odd blistering shrub. We look to his heritage to explain his icy movements which propound the gumptious freedom which we all take for granted when one is beaten into many. The sandy walk is hewn with a money-crushing utility ship and I praise your planetary awareness to the high half-pins. This still can't get me arrested in this 'two-horse' liverburg. I tell them all the time to please stop by my hostel, expand my showplace and pet my cowels under a two-tone lancing buldge. The lawyers alone will make sure that they are stuck in a foreign room. This one is for draining our pump. The other one braces for a mild impact. I've seen both but only one makes the difference which counts in the end. Why can't anyone see that? Is it something we ate? Or, would that be pushing things? You have my boat. 

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