Ducking Fogs

I thought I would get a jumpstart on spring cleaning today, which in these parts it does not seem a minute too soon, as it was a beautiful breezy 76 today. So in spite of my typical sleep deprivation on weekends, I unfolded myself from my makeshift pallet at 6 this a.m. I figured that would be easier than launching another sunrise counter-offensive on the loud-ass m.f. barking dogs in the Azalea Vet. Clinic kennel that has taken over the morning serenity behind my backyard, which I now refer to as the Gaza Strip. My stockpile of bottle rockets, black cats and whistlers is in need of replenishing anyway, and I wanted to start this Saturday in a happy place for a change of pace. Though I must admit I get solid satisfaction in micro-bursts when the puppy prisoners are silenced for 10 seconds or so after a barrage of my fireworks litter the sky just above their cages. But on this morning, I had another agenda, and I would awaken prior to their incessant group-yapping commenced, which would be drowned out by my jukebox jam for the duration of the day.