Psyched

Went to a psychologist for the first time in my life last week. There's nothing weird going on here that isn't normally associated with being me. It was just pre-marital counseling. And I can say what strikes me now is how nervous I was beforehand.

Your mind can do weird things when it doesn't know what to expect. I half-expected to walk in and answer about 10 questions, at which point she would pull out a picture and yell, "This is what you look like inside!" -- and show me some Fruedian-based image of such personal destruction that I would break down like an 3-year-old fat kid throwing a tantrum. Then the hour would end and I'd be dragged out by two men in white coats.

But -- not that I'm going to go into anything personal here -- I talked about what I wanted to talk about and she gave common-sense advice. I had to remind myself not to look at my watch. She looked like she was bored and wanted to move on to the people with real problems. I wonder if I should ask her next time if the fact that I was anxious means anything?

Nah. Last session is Friday.

***

Bah bye, couwze
So, we're now getting rid of the 30 or so cows recently put to graze at the farm. There's a problem with the electric fence that would be too boring to describe. I just wanted to say that they smelt bad and left plenty of the material cows are known to leave, but I'll miss watching the suckers frolick, the entertainment they provided for the dogs and the way they made me hungry for barbecue.

***

Random thought on 281
I've noticed that this has become an object of praise in at least three out of the last five "I luv Texas" songs I've heard recently, and someone needs to state this plainly: Lone Star beer sucks. Badly.