Judge Karma

Judge:  To criticize or label another person or thing.

Here's another Karma, Kramer observation from the King of All The Judges . . . 

Our excellent painter guy shows up promptly at 8 AM and works right up until quitting time which appears to be whenever he wants to stop working.  The time varies a great deal but 3:30 has been the limit so far.  These hours do not make up a 60 hour work week.  They make up a 20 hour work week except for the days when he lets us know he'll be late because he needs to do something besides work on my house.  I don't pay any attention to what it is he needs to be doing because I could care less what he's doing if it's not PAINTING MY HOUSE!

He also likes to talk a lot.  I find this to be true with people that live alone - they infer from my presence in their presence that I must want to hear every last thought that enters their mind.  I wonder what it is about me that makes people believe this ludicrous misconception.  Normally this would be OK by me - he's a good friend and a great Program guy, but when he strolls into my space and says: "Can I run something by you?" it means he's not going to be running some paint past my baseboard.  Thank god I didn't agree to pay him by the hour.  I'd have to sign over my little mobile home to him just to cover the down-payment.

Did you know there's a chapter in the Bible called "Judges?"  I should read that.  I should write the sequel.  Who knows - maybe I wrote the original during a psychic break while on a bad LSD trip.

I think the point here is that my behavior often leads directly to the place where I am at.  It's unusual for me today to be surprised by the circumstances of my existence.  I speed - I get a ticket.  I mouth off to SuperK - I sleep in the shed.  I don't go to meetings - I feel like crap.  I rarely find myself somewhere that I can't attribute directly to my behavior.

I don't think I got to the point even though I said I was getting to the point.  I also don't think my painter friend would say I've been anything other than friendly.  The problem is that my desk sits right in the middle of the house so that when I'm home and he's working - as rarely as these two events coincide - I really can't get away from him.  It's not that I don't like to talk to him - it's that l don't like to talk to anybody.  Ever.  Why anyone would think I'm interested in what they're saying is beyond me.

The point, you say, the point.  I don't remember what the point is anymore but if he says anything to me about not having enough money I think I'm going to remember the fucking point.