kanji

22 August, 2002
You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

Today's mission was to creep back home, under the radar. Have one day without demands... which is only possible when I'm not supposed to be home.

That lasted for about four hours after I finally got to bed at 5 something. I was still buried in the pillows when Slick Willie pulled up in the driveway. Say What? Turns out he was going to pilfer about one hundred gallons of water to transport to my mother's house (who he's trying to placate until the land deal goes through). Yeah, that would look good on the water bill, next month. Especially with mandatory restrictions in effect. Moms sticks it to me when she doesn't even know it.

So that was the rude awakening. Which spun into action with too much caffeine and stimulants... too jittery a start. Which carried over into the afternoon.

Just a little too much on the edge to make any progress. I swear, if I had tranquilizers, I would've given them serious thought. And I hate/don't do the damned things. I sure don't need feeling like this.

About to spring inside-out.

Made myself jump in the car for awhile. To Get Out. Storm chasing in the Sahara. Read for most of the afternoon on the return (blistering through this Clancy thing... and absorbing little. As if it's necessary). Reassembled the grill, and threw together some stir-fried vegs (with a scratch marinade), and patted down a steak with some garlic and jerk seasoning. All I needed was fuel to take the edge off. I enjoy cooking, but am just too lazy to do a big production more than once a day. Better get over that, or I'll implode.

In the course of the evening, two calls came in... from Lardass next door. The second unnecessary meeting of the day, when I was getting food (Lardass and I have a history. He once threatened to take a swing at me. And backed down. And I never forget). The subject of the call? Low pressure in his tap. Turns out, also in mine. It's all drying up, folks. A curse be upon us.

And now, silence.

No calls to or from the beach, today. Miss Jane called briefly when I was at work, last night. Just checking in, I suppose... as quickly as the conversation started, it was over. Had to go back to the kids.

Four days apart, and I'm feeling... nothing. Which is awful. Shouldn't there be pangs, somewhat? None, after all this time. Is it so over? The heart in my chest tells me zero.

Activity, tomorrow. Got to find out what the holdup is on the remodelers. Get enlightened on who will do the bottling on all of these peppers, and for how much. And whichever among the millions of projects manifests itself.

Can't hide, after all.

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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