White Lightning Axiom: Redux

Revving the motor, I attempt to start again. My internal biological motor that is. It sounds more like a belt fan with a cat stuck in it though. Lots of hairballs to boot. I've not been up to snuff lately. I believe it's been my fault however. Falling into the typical teen-ager mindset that I'm neigh-invulnerable, activities have been undertaken which should not have been. Or at least, with great trepidation rather than the wild abandon and unbridled gusto that has been my trademark of late. Need I say that I was out sick yesterday? Anybody surprised that beneath this impervious cybernetic miracle body-armor is a withered wretched wreck? So I idled the hours away in the Medical ward of the manor with my equally ill children cuddled up to me and watching 1969 Scooby Doo cartoons. The newer versions have a more fluid style and lack the absurd laugh track. Oh, and Fred got rid of his feminine ascot. Good move, Daphne was starting to stray since you fell in with that shady crowd at the fountain soda shop. The fact that they like the show warms my heart though. Outside of the usual HB tripe that was produced, there is nothing like the original PotHead Shaggy and his canine buddy with their perpetual case of the munchies.

After an exhausting marathon of Tivo served cartoons, Alexis takes a nap and I pull myself up by the bootstraps and go out to stack some wood. It's been sitting in the drive and is taking up way too much space. The vehicle fleet needs room for combat maneuvers you know. Jake, being the perpetually curious twerp he is, manages to figure out where I have gone and sneaks out to surprise me. After loosing the argument of why he should not be outside with me, I put his coat and shoes on and let him 'help' me. Helping involves him sweeping up the bark and throwing chunks of wood over the fence into the back-50. Oh, and climbing to the top of the pile and rolling about till his was indistinguishable from a pile of dirt. After that, he felt compelled to bring whatever wood he could lift to me for stacking. I gave him my worn leather gloves to protect his pudgy little hands from the guaranteed sliver. It slowed me down a bit, but the split wood was safely out of the way and Jake was happy to get a slice of Daddy's time. I'm expecting a log delivery on the 10th so I needed to get this done while it was not raining anyways. The other upside to this is that in between the coughing fits and hacking up chunks of my lungs, I did get some fresh air.

Being on the injured reserve list presented some problems for me. First off, I was supposed to meet my insurance guy at lunch. I completely forgot about it. He called me and asked if I was still alive. I don't usually forget things like that so I knew I was at my lowest. We tentatively agreed to meet the next day after I give him a call to let him know that I am indeed at work. Since the Universe acts diametrically in regards to my desires, I should have known that this would not happen. This morning, the Mrs had to be at work by 0800 for a meeting of some sort. She just got her annual raise and is feeling like she needs to work accordingly to show that she deserved it. So out the door before 0700 we go. In the drug-induced haze, I only managed to bring my car keys. No wallet, no cash, no PDA, no watch, no cell phone. Heck, I even forgot my belt! Contacting Dave the Insurance Guy could not be accomplished since a) his business card was in my wallet, b) his phone number is stored in my pda, c) previously dialed number are in the cell phone. I did manage to bring my check-book ... which is fairly worthless without an ID. I can see me trying to buy a hot-dog or can of soda now with a personal check. The line behind me would riot and the cashier would call the local Psych Ward with a pickup request. When are they going to get around to installing credit ID chips in our fingertips already. It's hard to forget your hands, but I'd probably leave my head on the shelf. Maybe I just need a Batman-like utility belt. Hmmm, the Haupertonian Identa-belt. Holds up your pants, holds in your gut, holds down your purchases. Just swipe your belt-buckle through the card reader. I can see the looks now as I'm doing hip gyrations at the gas pump. .... ummm, then again.

My 'welcome back to work' came on the turnpike today. Just plain awful:

1. Semi at blocking road at Mason Mill RR Trestle
2. Dope at Tpk on-ramp
3. Slow-poke letting slow tanker trucks cut him off (for no reason)

# posted by mdmhvonpa @ 8:15 AM