shot...

shoot, shoot, and still shooting. the aftermath from the insane intensity of the past couple of weeks has left me barely standing, pun intended. my flat duck feet are not made for wearing anything with a heel elevation above ground level, especially of the three and a half to five inch sort. if my feet could cry, they would be bawling tears of the cats and dogs rain sort. from the batty wake up times of five odd to make ludicrous seven o'clock reporting times for hair and makeup in consequence sequence of days on end at a place where monkeys sleep in plush greenery and erratic levels of peaceful waters of a reservoir at a stone's throw away, certainly ain't kidding when say it is crazy hectic madness in every sense.

yet, there is an aberrant placidity about it all despite all the screwups that have popped by as frequent as bird droppings in a park. "last minute" certainly ain't no friendly buddy, especially when it has a passion for wrecking chaos with a vengence. all that can be done, is to keep bumping around till the right mix is found, if it can be found in the first place in all the muddling, hopefully. when murphy's law is at work, people are bound to end up having a screw loose somewhere eventually. it just is. moreso for the poor nanny who has to do all the caretaking, or rather, nannies since there will be another to report to soon enough. anyone and everyone feels really sorry for nanny as she pretty much looks as if she is about to break into tears at any point.

cranky has certainly been riding on everyone. and no, it does not go along with sympathy. it pretty much morphs everyone and anyone into meanies of ogre size who go around eating people alive, though got to add, that metamorphosis is somewhat more exclusive to some more than others. ain't kidding when say it is pretty much being lambaste by a whole firing squad with a neverending supply of firearms and ammunition. so totally shot.