going to the basement for the day
I hate high winds. I also hate the critical fire alert they keep blabbing about in the paper. I think I'll spend the day in the basement. Oh, wait. I have to go to Gustavus this afternoon...the windiest spot in Nicollet County...and spend three hours standing on the mall outside the student union. I better load my pockets with rocks.
A critical fire alert, for anyone other than a member of the fire department, seems meaningless. I will refrain from burning leaves (common sense?) but otherwise I'm not sure of the action to take. It seems to be like the time they had the sniper in Washington. They advised people to walk in a zig-zag pattern. I tried it a couple times but it was awkward. Or the government's color alert system for terrorism. Sometimes I think we get too much information.
I set my alarm so I would get up and put the trash and recycling out this morning. Sometimes we wake up when we hear the truck rumbling down the street. Nothing like a mad dash in front of the trash hauler at 7 am, although it's probably a scene he is accustomed to seeing.
We have a little unspoken rivalry on our street. You don't want to be the last to bring your trash containers up on the day of collection. It's ok to wait until you get home from work, but you don't want to let them sit there for days. That would be middle class slothfulness. Like wearing your pajamas until noon.
I read in the paper once about a fancy neighborhood that had "covenants" about trash containers. Lots of them. You were not allowed to leave your trash container outside of an enclosed building, take it to the front of your house, or leave it out for more than thirty minutes after the truck had passed. Too many rules for me.
I looked covenants up on Wikipedia. A covenant usually refers to a sacred agreement between God and humanity. Doesn't that seem kind of serious for a rule about trash cans and clothes lines? What the hell.
I'm reading another book of historical fiction. This time, I swear, I am really done. I have to get out of the 1600s and read something with more modern language and a tad bit more action of the kind that does not include lopping off heads and running men through with giant swords. I can't believe the main character has lived more than 60 years...those were bad ass times.
Regis is still sleeping. We had a medical backhand yesterday that we did not anticipate. We've been to so many appointments lately that we expected this one to be fine, too. Not so. We're optimistic about the surgery next week and we try not to spend too much time dwelling on the bad crap that can happen.
Enough of this and that. Stay cool and fire-free today.
A critical fire alert, for anyone other than a member of the fire department, seems meaningless. I will refrain from burning leaves (common sense?) but otherwise I'm not sure of the action to take. It seems to be like the time they had the sniper in Washington. They advised people to walk in a zig-zag pattern. I tried it a couple times but it was awkward. Or the government's color alert system for terrorism. Sometimes I think we get too much information.
I set my alarm so I would get up and put the trash and recycling out this morning. Sometimes we wake up when we hear the truck rumbling down the street. Nothing like a mad dash in front of the trash hauler at 7 am, although it's probably a scene he is accustomed to seeing.
We have a little unspoken rivalry on our street. You don't want to be the last to bring your trash containers up on the day of collection. It's ok to wait until you get home from work, but you don't want to let them sit there for days. That would be middle class slothfulness. Like wearing your pajamas until noon.
I read in the paper once about a fancy neighborhood that had "covenants" about trash containers. Lots of them. You were not allowed to leave your trash container outside of an enclosed building, take it to the front of your house, or leave it out for more than thirty minutes after the truck had passed. Too many rules for me.
I looked covenants up on Wikipedia. A covenant usually refers to a sacred agreement between God and humanity. Doesn't that seem kind of serious for a rule about trash cans and clothes lines? What the hell.
I'm reading another book of historical fiction. This time, I swear, I am really done. I have to get out of the 1600s and read something with more modern language and a tad bit more action of the kind that does not include lopping off heads and running men through with giant swords. I can't believe the main character has lived more than 60 years...those were bad ass times.
Regis is still sleeping. We had a medical backhand yesterday that we did not anticipate. We've been to so many appointments lately that we expected this one to be fine, too. Not so. We're optimistic about the surgery next week and we try not to spend too much time dwelling on the bad crap that can happen.
Enough of this and that. Stay cool and fire-free today.
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