I might even name it Bubba

I slept badly, got up late (I had already washed up in the bath last night), and looked out Ron's window. 

Lo and behold, it's a giant possum.  EW!  They look so ratlike. 

I shuddered and went to work.  The other vendor says I sound brighter.  Good. 

With God's help, I was able to fix a down vending machine.  I had made it a lot harder, in my head, than it turned out to be!  Thanks, God. 

I need Him in almost everything.  I think that's a bonus to being disabled.  I'm used to leaning on Him. 

We had a good ride home with "Mr Politics".  He was ranting about drug testing and disability.  He feels no one should have to take a drug test if they are applying for disability.  I told him I don't want my money going to support drug addicts. 

He kept going on about "getting MY money back".  I tried to tell him "his" money was long gone.  It's the people after him who will be paying his checks.  He didn't want to accept it.  He still thinks "His" money is sitting in an account somewhere, under his Social Security Number, waiting for him to start taking it. 

Not.  Quite. 

I got home, did some research.  Possums are fine in the yard. 

In fact, since they kill rats, I might even name it Bubba.