The excitement continues to build here at Merle Wayne Sneed headquarters in anticipation of my blowup at the credit union tomorrow. Perhaps that is why I find myself typing this post, instead of being fast asleep. Or it might be the pizza I had for dinner. The green chiles taste good going down, but they linger. Any Sneed who is anybody was over this morning for our Sunday morning get together. One of the joys of being old is being surrounded by children and grandchildren. Of course, the attendees did not include the rarely mentioned, rarely seen Cletus Sneed. For the uninitiated, Cletus Sneed is our youngest and adopted son. We foolishly thought that we could change the life of a child by giving him a stable home and a loving family. Cletus is what happens when the angels of our better nature beat us senseless with their harps. Search 'Cletus' in my blog for the complete picture. Cletus did make one of his mystery calls to the house this afternoon. He has somewhere between one and three daughters (depending on who is doing the counting) with a useless young woman named Melissa. They are in a constant state of war, generally over visitation with the kids and child support. His phone call today was about Melissa and it is one I have received a hundred times. Me: Hello? Him: Hi. Did Melissa call there? Me: Why do you think she would call here? Him: Okay, thanks. (click). I never understand the point of these calls, but since they are brief and he doesn't ask for money, I let sleeping dogs lie. And by the way, in case you didn't hear, the Eagles beat the Giants in the NFL playoffs today. That means at bowling tomorrow night I don't have to listen to a big goofball named Jeff go on and on about the Giants. Jeff is one of those guys who is too old to show up wearing a Giants jersey, but he does anyway. 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