A fox ran across the street in front of me, and almost woke me up. It was about time, too, because the run was almost over. Let's see, I can remember the ferocious gnats down on creekroad, and I vaguely remember seeing a pair of storks planted on a lawn somewhere on uphill road. They've had girls named Lola and Lily. I immediately thought of a Kinks song and Lily Langtry. I have no memory of the 2-mile loop in the opposite development that followed that. Or anything about coming back along creekroad, nothing until battlehill street, when that rangy-looking fox glided across my path and into the woods.
*It's always best to wake up asleep, because then I won't talk myself out of getting up.
It seems a pity that this groggy run is more interesting than the rest of the day.
I was working returns with Buntop again yesterday. She reminded me about five times that she's off on Friday. "You'll miss me!" Right-O. I was astonished to discover that even the woman working in the company bookstore usually develops an urgent need to check something in the stockroom when Buntop comes in. I'd had no idea how far and wide Buntop's nonstop chatter traveled. Of course, there's no hiding--Buntop will simply go back there and stand at the door, jammering her head off at this poor woman. Buntop either does not notice when someone is looking pained or does not care. There's also denial, I suppose.
Today, I spent time working beside Makettle. I was quality checking, and she was replacing the small batteries in the musical birdhouses, and she was muttering the whole time. All I have to do to get along with Makettle is respond to her occasional, "Isn't that the truth?" or, "Ya know it?" Nod, nod. Yep, that's the truth, yep I know it. At least once a day, too, she'll suddenly scratch and say that she thinks she might have a tick. "Oooh." What do you say to that? (She has three horses and her home sounds like Wild Kingdom.)
Wait, wait, wait. I must be barking mad to be journaling about work again. I should be visiting, since I haven't had any time recently, and won't again tomorrow, and the cat won't let me type properly. My Wonderweather cat has just emerged from hiding from a loud, bad storm.
And, when it's not raining bullets and pancakes, it's HOT! It's hard to keep the warehouse cool with all the dock doors being opened. And the birds fly in, and start making noise, and--ya know what else.
Who let the birds in? (chirp, chirp, chirp chirp!)
And I'm mentioning work, again. Honestly.
I'll be back with a beer recommendation, soon. You knew I'd be driven to drink, huh?