Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Damn tired last night. I actually went to bed early. Not early enough so that the bellicose complaints of Katie at 5:30 still woke me much too early. I let the two STINKY hounds out to rip up what is left of the acreage in the back and unloaded the truck bed of food for them to ravage. I promptly crawled back to bed before the foggy haze of slumber deserted me completely. It was not long before the Onerous Offspring of Early Excitement began to demand release from the Toddler Detention Zone. They allowed me a sliver of time, a mere 15 minutes of restless tossing upon our California king water bottle. So be it. Commence operation Morning Routine.
There was one deviation from the morning routine, I had to get my timesheet out before the powers that be came down upon my head. Getting the laptop to boot up is a millennium long wait when you are in a hurry. After it completed its delaying action, chirping and sputtering away, it eventually settled down and allowed me to launch a browser and the timesheet program. Tippity-tap, clickity-clack, fifteen minutes will break my back. And it did. That atom of time was multiplied many-fold on the Turnpike. Multiplied and spread and fused till it became a huge lump of U-238, just waiting to KILL US ALL! ... err, yes. In any event, when I did finally get to work, I bumped into Maggie Stone in the parking lot. I shared an umbrella with her till we got out of the rain and engaged in small talk along the way. Odd thing, I've been working within 20 meters of her for the last 4 months and she had yet to say 'Boo' to me. Now, out of the blue, she starts talking to me. I blame John Purcell for this. He show's up and all of a sudden, Arris Contractors are the cat's meow. Go figure. I think she is trying to get to him through me. Honest!
It was fortunate that I did my timesheet this morning. While I was fabricating serious and deceptive descriptions of what I have been doing, I noticed a stack of papers on top of the monitor. When I got up to shut off the bazillion watt halogen lamp behind my desk, I accidentally bumped some of the papers off their perch. While picking them up, I inadvertently read one and recoiled in shock as most Republicans and their distant cousins, the Libertarians, would have done. It was a local tax filing worksheet. Due date: 7/31. Well then, I guess It would be a good time to send in my extorted funds to the unscrupulous thieves at my township den of vipers. So I calculate and tabulate and squeeze one more drop of blood out if the withered turnip that is our bank accounts. If I am expected to send 1% of my pre-tax income to these people, I had damn well better see some returns. I know 50% is being co-opted by the schools and I think the other 50% is being diverted to hire strippers at township board meetings. I'm certain of it. Time to run for office, me-thinks.
At work, it's Tuesday so I get to attend a monotonous meeting at 1pm. Bleh, I've got work to do, so let's get on with it. In other news, Rob Moran, my insurance broker called to let me know that the next best thing for me would be an annual policy at 2800$. It would be 2K except for that little accident of ours. Nutz. On the way home, the rain that hammered us throughout the day had flooded some of the low-lying areas. All of these areas lay directly in my route home. If you think the Turnpike is a mess with the rain, the local roads make it pale by comparison. There is no mercy here, the local constabulary just close off the roads and make you fend for yourself. This pretty much relegates all traffic to 1 east-west road in the area. This road also goes from a 5 lane road to a 2 lane close to my home, but just short of the last open bridge over the Turnpike in the area. It took me 1.5 hours to make a 25 mile commute. I went straight to the Child Imprisonment Zone without stopping at the Haupertonian Combine City-State first. I would never make it in time if I tried to stop off. To make things more interesting, the Lovely Mrs MDMHVONPA is packing up her office. She will be moving to a new location as part of a 'reorganization'. This company owns city sized plant locations throughout the North East and they have decided that it would be wise to use the location she is at in a more efficient way. It is zoned as Light Industrial, so anyone not wielding a hammer or a Union card is tough-outta-luck. So pack away she must, and not come home till well after bed-time for the Terrible Twins of Toddelerhood. An arduous evening lay before me as I do my best to battle back the most intricate and devious attack plans I have seen to date. Yet again, they force their will upon me till the last second before their bed time. And then, quiet. The eerie, unsettling quiet before the storm.And what a storm it was. Lightning and thunder came down between the gusts of wind. The multitude of towers and lightning rods in the area attest to the frequency at which this hill-top gets peppered with strikes. At one point, I had to let the hounds out to do their thing. The storm felt their presence and opened the flood gates as if Noah was coming down the pike. The street was like a spillway. The water was flowing up out of the gutters because the street had so much water flowing through it. The hounds were so distracted by the pelting rain, they didn't have a clue as to why they were sent out there. Then a bolt of lightning hit no more than 100 meters away. Katie jumped right out of her skin and didn't hit the ground more than once before she got back to the door. I couldn't help but be amused that this little Hell Hound turned tail at her first experience with a blinding bolt of electricity. They were both quiet for the rest of the night, as they tucked themselves into a corner and tried to make themselves as small as possible. No inconsiderable task for these two loutish beasts. Oddly enough, the Twins slept right through the procession of lightning that danced upon our hill-top perch. The cable, however, did not fare so well. And of course, no internet either. I fear if I had tried to read a book, the lightning would strike right down the spine of it.