Caveat: Nonspecification

Arthur and I were walking around town – because we’d left the Blueberry (the car) at the mechanic’s for diagnosis of a problem.
He was grumbling incoherently, as sometimes happens.
Jared: “How are you doing?”
Arthur: “Everything is fucked.”
Jared: “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
Arthur: “I don’t feel the need to be more specific.”
He’s been struggling with his vertigo problem, of course. And a general frustration with his ageing. But the way he phrased his response made me laugh.


In other news, Richard got the new septic tank for Lot 73 stuck down in its pit, finally, and mostly buried. Progress is being made, one rock at a time, and by the bucketfulls.
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