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I am counting down the days, or perhaps only hours, until I get sent to the Facebook gulag. I don’t really care.
I first joined the Facebook club back around 2007 out of curiosity; I had already been blogging for some years. After toying around with Facebook for a while, looking for old acquaintances, “poking” people, and getting digital Tim Horton rims from strangers I decided to move on. This type of nonsense wasn’t for me.
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It’s a Mexico truck with a non-English speaking driver. I had seen this guy sitting there in the middle of the parking lot 5 hours ago. Made a mental note and went about my day.
When I came back, he’s still there. Except this time, I see him tying logistic straps to his tow hook. I thought, “Ok, something up and nobody’s helping him.”
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So, I started asking questions in “class.” The instructor answered my questions in exactly the same manner as Justin Trudeau answers questions about Climate Change or COVID-19; after a while, I could tell he was getting annoyed with me.
I don’t remember how long I attended these “training” sessions – two or three days, but on the last day I had made my assessment. The unit might be effective at filtering the air, but there was absolutely no evidence that it would get rid of dust mites, nor reduce severe outcomes for children with asthma. It was a con job. I could not see myself preying upon desperate parents with sick children. I quit.
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There is, and always has been, the open invitation go get into trouble. It lies there in waiting, just around the corner for the unsuspecting Driver away from home.
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Even when I had the truck with more horses, more power. When I had the lighter loads, I stayed behind.
When I had the faster wheels, or had to be there at my pickup or delivery point before her, I stayed behind.
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ost of the city, what came to be called “Ground Zero” was unapproachable, it’s goings on left for our imaginations to provide some semblance of reality. I certainly have my personal recollections but the one that sticks is simple and personal. Around 6:30 p.m., one our friends there in the center there told us hundreds were gathering for prayers and readings and just spontaneous moral support. He suggested we go as well and do “what we do;” ie, chant the Hare Krsna Mantra.
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I watched an elderly fellow hobble across the parking lot to his truck. Curious about his trailer, I walked over and asked how much he could pack into that wagon.
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Because the elevation is up there, the clouds can bump your hat off sometimes, and the stars….well…they just like to show off .
But my point is this: She’s getting cooler at night. Starting be an extra blanket kind of night. That’s okay, but soon, very soon, the frost will set in. The wind (which they call Mariah) will start demonstrating her constant ability to blow a man’s hat off much better than the clouds.
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But when an Off day is saddled with a cup of coffee that is just so off…well, hell. You might just as well stay under the covers and count timbits.
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