We'll conduct a routine property inspection next Monday, 10/5 at starting at 10am. You don't have to be present...

That was a recent text from my landlord.  So.  I thought, "What if I keel between now and Monday?"

So, just in case, I'm preparing.  Bought me one'a them six foot skeletons at Wally... dressing it up with clothes, shoes, hat, all that.  Putting it behind the shower curtain.  Sorry, kinda.

On my bed, a tape recorder and note, "If only this bed could talk."  And then I'd record some crap, all they gotta do is press the button:  "I gotta pee."...  "Oh shit, it's Tuesday, I gotta work." ...  'Sorry Doc, butt dial."  That was a real one.  I take my phone to bed and play Sudoku to put me to sleep... once, I'd somehow dialed my eye doctor at 2:37am... he called the next morning at 8.... "Damn, I gotta pee AGAIN."...  "The envelope is between the mattresses.".. 

Ain't that what all geezers do?  Don't trust banks, hide that money crap somewhere they ain't? So, the envelope between the mattresses had been opened... a note inside "Victor, you idiot, you moved it to your sock drawer."

183 Compression socks in my sock drawer, one white regular sock, a dead giveaway, pun mebbe intended.  Envelope there opened as well... "Victor, you idiot! You moved it again!"

 I figured they'd somehow run outta patience looking for an envelope that doesn'' exist and start throwing junk in a dumpster.   So, above my mantle, I could just seem 'em tossing my framed 1985 Sport's Illustrated pic of the Royal's in a dog pile after winning the World Series... note attached "NOOOOOOO, don't toss this!  Mail it to my buddy Tip in Tulsa!  His addy is in my phone!"

 OK, stupid blog idea #12,673.  Sorry, kinda.  Been there, will do that again.

Original thought was to do a blog on boobs and booby traps... but, it's been so long since I've seen one..   ahm, yeah, a booby trap... I didn't feel qualified.

Virgil Kane is my name... and that damn song kept rippling thru my brain... looked into a blog... Civil War.... nah... and strangely, the whole damn band (with the exception of the drummer) was from Canada.

Last idea was bucket lists.

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza.

Love, Victurd