Not Quite Connecting

I like to call this one coffee with angst creamer.

I'm totally slacking from writing today.  The fact that I keep misspelling writing by typing righting should be a clue that today is a day where I should leave the writing to someone else.  I think the little synapse thing that connects my fingers to my brain is participating in a protest.  I abused my hands this weekend by raking and bagging 42 bags of leaves that then had to be hauled off to the recycling center today (5 trips!) today.  We seriously need a truck.

Since you've bothered to stop by (I typed brothered to stop by at first), let me show you some pictures that I've recently saved from the internets.  Oh, I don't mean saved as in rescued.  They weren't in any danger or anything.  I mean, I don't think they were.  And as far as I know, they're soulless so they don't have to worry about being saved for eternity either.  Come to think of it, since they're here on the internet, they are saved for eternity.  Or posterity.  Or at least until the idiot humans blow themselves and their world to smithereens.

Anyway, there's one up at the top of the post and then there's this bizarre bit of business....

This could be our subdivision.  See the cotton fields and the smokestacks?  Yep.  Just like that.  

Except the one MILFish mom in the neighborhood wears a tubetop and flipflops instead of the awesome halter dress with matching pumps.

Oh wait!  I get it!  It's a cotton factory!  In the U.S.A?

Textiles made in the U.S.  Whoa.  Talk about vintage.

 I know, not your usual money's worth.....apologies to you and yours.  Look - I'm typing a letter of apology now.  It will be full of typos, but my intentions are good.

Not really me.  My typewriter is pink.

So how has your Monday been?