Today was the big test day for the gardening program. I tried my best to get up the energy to study for it, but I just couldn't do it. As I suspected, the World's Foremost Expert and her apprentice, spent considerable time over the weekend preparing. They had a study group. I just can't get that excited about the whole business anyway. If you pass the test, you get to be a community gardening volunteer. If you fail the test, you don't have to be a community volunteer. What can possibly go wrong? I'm pretty sure I passed okay, which may or may not be a good thing. My boy Cletus is at it again. I know you get tired of me bitching about the bonehead, but it's cheap therapy, so cut me some slack. He came pounding on the door last night at about ten last night. He seems to be both homeless, jobless and definitely clueless. He must be doing drugs becausse he speaks but it doesn't make sense. I gave him a ride to where he was staying last night, a small church a few miles away, to reinforce the point that mi casa no es su casa. At seven this morning he was back. He just wanted to hang around and use the phone to bother everyone he knows. I had to leave and Son Sneed took up the challenge of trying to get him out of the house. By the time I got back from taking my test, he was gone, but he called this afternoon wanting to drop by. I told him no. I'm pretty sure he will show up this evening. No amount of telling him no seems to work. To make matters worse, he ate all of my Pop Tarts. Bastard. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky