I think that’s an oxymoron which is fitting in a way; as I’ve been called something similar on occasion. My routines are pretty basic I’ll oversleep, stagger to the bathroom, then let the girls out of their bedroom so they can do their little routines. Mocha will jump on my bed for a postmorning snooze, after an eight hour one she just woke from; while Suzie goes and hides in the closet of the other bedroom and does whatever it is she does in there?
After about 15 minutes we’ll say our hello’s and start the day with a little ear scratching and light tummy rubbing, before its 'stretching time' which bring audible farts from all three of us and always manages to make me smile. Then it’s their chance to freshen old markings out front and chew on some crisp grass, while I sit on the porch sipping my Starbucks crappy frappe and screaming at each of them to “get away from the damned road” while adjusting my eyes to the gorgeous sunrise, as it crests over the Bridger’s this time of year.
“Ah...I love Montana!”
Thus ends any part of my life deemed 'predictable' as over the next several hours my routine consists of either going fly fishing, bear hunting, or job hunting, and rarely the latter? This of course negatively effects doing either of the other two as I’m flat broke because of it, and can barely afford to drive across town and attempt such stalks with rod or gun; but do my best still. ....
Women say they “want a spontaneous boyfriend, husband, or whatever”, but after years of doing what I want and being as unpredictable as anyone and the amount of trouble I find myself in every single day, while ignoring all human responsibility; I can hereby debunk that as urban legend and myth.
What they really mean is they want a man who’s spontaneously buying them expensive shit and predictably doing so when they don’t give it up. Those days are long behind me as far as caring, though I did devote the first-half of my life to such pursuits and even chased them from one side of the country to the next while doing so.
Thus I sometimes find myself alone between trips to the Madison whether pursuing bears, browns, or bows. While the girls entertain me visually and we still converse from tiem to time, along with the occasional hug; I’ll every once in a while find myself flirting when I shouldn’t with married women or logging into dating services spontaneously while checking email? Then predictably logging-out without fully joining, once a few pictures ‘pop up’ of lonely women who outweigh me by fifty pounds; as I go 300 myself?!
The days tick by and I make-do working the odd job I’ve advertised myself for at the local market. Having a pickup truck but sans any tools limits me on what I can actually help with of course. So any phone calls I get that don’t pan out with much work, can occasionally end up with me ‘talking fishing or hunting with a complete stranger’; gleaning insight on future possibilities in the state (or they just hang up on me mid conversation when I drum on a little longer than I should)?
My handy-work with local farmers whether it’s mending fences, light construction, or painting barns, is always prone to a bit of comedy or lawsuits; as I’m not very handy with tools, and a notorious slob. Which makes these part-time jobs ‘very part-time’ and don’t always even last thru the time it takes to complete them…?
So, I continue to refresh my applications and resend my resumes to the same few places I really want to work. And whether I chased bears or my dogs around a field or landed a few fish, at the end of each day I predictably fall back into the routine of renting a movie, eating frozen pizza, and scratching my dogs behind the ears.
…Falling asleep each night dreaming of trophy game, trophy fish, and the equally elusive trophy wife I might’ve spotted at the supermarket.