Texas Ranger just came in, reeking of cigarettes and with another unlit Pall Mall already in his hand yet again, discussing how difficult it is to add a shortcut to his windows desktop. He has come in four times now, making his trademark in-and-out-and-in-and-out loops in my doorway, pointing and gesturing at me with his lighter and ciggie. And, as always, just when I think he is gone, he comes back in and brings up something I could really care less about, like horses, tobacco, or what the local salvage store got from an ailing and out of business discount store God-knows-where in Iowa, or something just as silly.


Today has been one of those days where I am forced to ask myself, "If it's so dead around here, why do I have to sit here at the phone?" I feel like those nuke jockeys, always on duty, always sitting there by the controls to the Minuteman missles, waiting for the improbable word to launch the suckers across the ponds whenever the powers that be get nukey. I am sure those guys are killer at sudoku and crosswords, or something at least. I'd go crazy if every single waking moment of my career were this boring. Oh well, at least next week seems to be bringing the promise of actually doing something. Apparently some machines broke in random directions around my work district. Time to snap out of Maytag Repariman mode and and spring into action.




As I am desperately picking my brain for some final witty comment, Walker has traipsed back into earshot, this time with StinkyFart Lady in tow. They appear to have stuffed their ears with cake icing, which is the only excuse I can come up with to explain why they are talking in voices so loud that I'm quite sure an old deaf man somewhere in rural Asia can hear their conversation and is wondering to himself what the hell is happening to his peaceful solitude.

And, as I post this, Walker has come back in and thus the cycle is complete. Pass the air freshener, will ya? It reeks of flavor country (tm) in here.