I have a few minutes before I shove off to work.  Looking back, turns out I haven’t been much of a blogger.  Once a year like clockwork…well, not even a little like clockwork.  Anyway, it’s kind of lonely around here this AM.  Mrs. Ghostdoc45 is off to work and the kids are at their grandma’s house.  I just got done erecting and cementing in a couple of posts for a playfort I’m building the kids.  It’ll be nice, not some whacked together-with-shitty-plywood-from-behind-shed fort, but a real two story fort.

Of course, I am quite sure that the douche-bag that lives behind us has his panties in a knot over it.  I’m pretty sure the fact that our children live near him annoys him.  I’m good with that…we were here first, so suck it!  It’s all okie-dokie according to this ridiculous HOA.  Two of the four posts were up and I saw him standing in his backyard pointing at our place and talking to another neighbor…so I let the dog and the kids go out back to play, bark, scream, throw shit, etc.  I thrive on the little bit of joy I get from doing things like that.

Back to the fort…I remember when we were kids, most of the guys I hung out with at 6 or 7, had older brothers.  I distinctly remember when they slapped together a crappy little plywood fort.  It was in the corner of the fenceline my buddy’s yard.  I don’t remember a ton about the construction of the little 4ft tall structure except that one of the geniuses building it was using a broken down wooden ladder to climb up to the top (how the hell short was that kid?) and the rungs broke out from under him.  Not long after that, my best friend’s (older) brother buried the claw end of a hammer in his own head.  Pretty damn funny as I recall!  It was like some sort of routine from a Three Stooges movie.  Those older kids were assholes anyway.  They used to torture us at every opportunity.  I remember they held me hostage in that stupid little fort, screaming at me, “Where’s the baseball hall of Fame?!? Tell us!”.  What the fuck does that even mean?  I was seven, I didn’t give a shit what a baseball even was.  What was a hall of fame?  That’s the best these dummies could muster? Really?  Oh..ha-ha…it’s in Cooperstown, New York, I get it now.  You fucking retards.  Kharma’s a evil mistress.  I’m pretty sure a couple of those guys got their asses beat by their parents later on, though.  Not only because they terrorized me and my little buddies, because they hit their parents where it really hurt…the wallet.  Those scholars wanted an “emergency exit” in that shitty little fort.  So inside it, they cut a good two foot hole in the fence.  Good concept, except the part where YOU CUT A HOLE IN THE FENCE!

So, my kids get a fort…because my experiences were so great with ’em when I was little, I guess.  Theirs is cool though, trap doors, ropes and nets..all hand built.  I’m pretty sure  no one will bury a hammer in their own head building this one.

Gotta roll…