White Lightning Axiom: Redux: Working for the weekend.

Saturday, November 13, 2004


Working for the weekend.

Time for the standard weekend update. I ended up leaving work late so I could help D* with the inventory problems. Managed to piss off the BA with how the inventory stuff is going. His reputation is on the line and shit ALWAYS rolls downhill. I have no choice here really, and Leave at 1630 to go pick up the kids. I do leave my home and cell phone number with D* so she can call me if she runs into problems. I get two calls that evening. One I could work with, one that I had no chance in hell to solve. The rain and late hour make getting home a bit difficult. Combined with the full bladder that I left work with, the drive was intolerable. I nearly did not make it home in time to recycle the infernal fluids. I raced up to the Manor driveway and did a little jig as I walked across the driveway to get inside. The rain was coming down pretty good and the darkness had completely enveloped the carport. To make a long story short, I could not get the key into the lock to get inside. Too much shaking and dancing. Needless to say, the vines on the side of the chimney got a little extra fertilizer. Furtively looking about, I contemplated about how I would explain any curious neighbor about my activities. After what seemed like an eternity, my relief is complete and I go about the evening activities. Pick up kids (in nick of time), start fire, release the hounds, etc. You know the routine. As what seems to be the norm now, I stay up till 0100 waiting for sleep to claim me. The next day is much better, if not for the early start. I have seven baskets of laundry to process. I also spend the day chopping wood for several hours followed up by washing the dogs and digging up two rows of spindly carrots. The dogs are happy to be clean because that means that they are no longer on quarantine. They are allowed into the living room with the kids. This is a mixed blessing. The kids love to 'play' with the dogs which involves 'horsey' and dressup. The Mrs and I tolerate this to some extent, but the dogs seem to endure it as a matter of receiving attention. Once in a while, a stray toy lofted at them will make contact. They won't make any effort to stop the barrage until I come into the room. Then they will hide behind me or move about to make themselves less of a soft target. Good dogs.


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