YOU JUST MIGHT BE HOMELESS IF......

It takes a while for street puppies to get used to the idea that they are homeless, rootless, and sometimes clueless.

The initial glow of recognition could be the idea that maybe your key in the lock isn't working because it has been changed by (1) an irate landlord who won't buy the story again that your pay check was lost in the mail because of the tornado three states away  (2) an irate spouse who knows your check was not lost in the mail because of that tornado because you were too drunk the past few weeks to know there was a tornado (3) the landlord and the spouse who decided life was too short for them to deny the deep and passionate love they had discovered  for each other after you lost your job and did nothing but drink for the past few weeks.

Anyway, here you are in homeless nation, wandering around like one of those lost souls who cannot bear to leave this planet even, sometimes  for years after they have been pronounced no longer breathing. 

That initial glow of recognition, that dawning that something is wrong with your life, is beginning to turn into a fog that glowers all around you as you wander through this totally foreign terrain called homeless nation.

In an effort to help you find your way back, it is first important to know where you really are, so here are some clues  for clueless street puppies... kind of a psychic GPS to help you through the fog.

YOU  JUST  MIGHT  BE  HOMELESS  IF.....

You have used the rest room today in five different places, and you can't remember where they were...

You are wearing a back pack that contains band aids, antibiotic cream, used kleenex, five combs, two pair of dirty socks,  a wet rain poncho, one running shoe, a week old pack of peanut butter cookies, a small can of cocktail weiners, a can opener, and a broken flashlight, a two week old mystery meat sandwich, two half full packs of nasty cigars.....and a whole bunch of leaves and small twigs.

The guy behind the counter at the corner 7-11, tenses up everytime you reach into your pocket to withdraw some change for the dollar a pack of nasty cigars...

The guy behind the counter at the corner 7-11 watches you like a hawk anytime you go near or past the beer cooler...

The guy behind the counter at the corner 7-11 washes his hands after taking your change for the dollar a pack nasty cigars...

You have memorized the numbers on every police car cruising within a five mile radius, armed with this knowledge, you will be able to determine if that car has passed you one too many times while you have been sitting on that bus stop bench...

You have worn the same pair of pants for one week, and when it is time to change, you simply turn them inside out...

Nobody will let you pet their dog....

Women with small children pull back when you approach them on the street....

The security guard who patrols the lobby of the bank you have kept your account in for twenty years, follows you at short range from the moment you enter the bank to cash a check for five-dollars......

The shoes you are wearing are a size too small, or a size too big, and they stink, which is ok,  because they stunk when you picked them up at the give away pile at the feed last week...

You have despaired of finding a comfortable spot to spend the night, so now you are right at home curled up around a bush just two feet away from an expressway with traffic whizzing by all night long...

Your hair has not been cut, combed, de-snarled or shampooed lately, more and more you are looking like the infamous Nick Nolte mug shot...

But you don't know that, because now the only rest room you are allowed into is the one where they took out all the mirrors to discourage people like you from taking the morning bath in there...

Your shirt has a J.Crew label; your jacket is from Tommy Hilfiger; Your pants are Bongo, and your baseball cap says NY Yankees.. Your T-shirt says, Harvard....and every item is way too big for you....

You cannot remember the last time you actually ate with utensils that were not plastic...

You cannot remember the last time you actually ate with plates that were not paper...

You cannot remember the last time you actually ate sitting down...

You cannot remember the last time you acatually ate...

You have stopped smiling at pretty girls....

You have stopped looking at pretty girls...

Your eyes tear up when the clerk at the grocery store smirks when she sees the food stamp card you are using to buy the beans and bread...

A good day is when your teeth don't hurt...

A bad day is when your teeth hurt all day long .....

No matter what you do, you cannot get your filthy fingernails clean, so you have taken to biting them right down to the nub...

And a big clue that you are in homeless nation....you have no idea about the quake that hit wherever the last big quake that wiped out a whole country hit, because you haven't seen a television in weeks and cannot afford to buy a paper.

Yup, you're in homeless nation. 

And your shelf life is running low.  Your expiration date may as well be stamped on your forehead.

You've been marginalized,  demoralized, analyzed, and categorized.

 It's time to think about being socialized.

Time to think of an exit strategy, street puppy.  Fast....before the next quake  or tornado hits.