No idea what time I got up this morning.
The electricity was sooooo off.
Storm related, I guess. And so, I had the priviledge of getting ready for work today like some PIONEER WOMAN.
At first, it was like OHWHOGIVESASHIT...but then it became a stark reality when I had to shower in sub-freezing temperature water...followed by sub-freezing temperature in both house, and world. Of course, the Red Bulls in my fridge were warm.
And so like the power guys...oh, there's a load of assholes paid by the hour.
I go out back to smoke...I'm all like chattering my teeth, trying to return to a normal body-core temperature...and they were all like "HEY!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THERE'S A LIVE WIRE HERE! YOU HAVE TO GO BACK INSIDE YOUR DWELLING!"
Oh yeah? THIS IS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, AND I DON'T HAVE TO DO A DAMN THING YOU SAY, YOU UNION-DEPENDANT-MONEY-GRUBBING-ELECTRICITY-HORDING-FASCIST!!! HAH! HAH! WHY DON'T YOU GET OFF YOUR LITTLE STEP-STOOL THERE, MUSSOLINI, AND MAKE ME GO BACK INSIDE MY DWELLING?!
(Of course...I merely thought these words...and meekly smiled.)
After I went back inside, I began to watch these dudes. They talked, looked up, and pointed, mostly. Work? Ah hell no...Work, was clearly for a whole separate group of men in orange.
You see, first you have the first group: the talkers/pointers group...they basically scout out the place for the second group...the little truck/sign/cones group. Now, these guys, the truck/sign/cone guys, well they pretty much let everyone know that they have taken control of this area...like some Radical conquest, operating for the Fascist Regime as a whole...similar to Mussolini's "Shock Groups," back in Italy somewhere around 1917, but different...
Therefore, it would seem I had encountered a Pro-Interventionist, er whatever...all trying to do his 'Fasci Italiani di Combattimento,' shit with me. And, I mean, all I wanted was to blow-dry my hair before I am found dead from hypothermia or whatnot...just my little attempt at looking somewhat decent for the paramedics and coroner when they find my lifeless self...but no.
As each minute ticked by without electricity, I began to hate these "workers." When the COAST WAS CLEAR for me to actually go out on MY BACK PORCH to smoke MY VERY OWN CIGARETTE and exercize my CIVIL LIBERTIES in MY FREE COUNTRY...I was on the verge of cracking into a solo of "GOD BLESS AMERICA," when I saw this one dude.
He was most definitely the smallest of the Fascist Regime...and he was way (and I mean WAYYY) up high on this telephone pole. Just hanging out there, zillions of feet above the alley, in the storm, on a telephone pole...and there, right next to his ORANGE HARD-HAT WEARING HEAD was a sign. It read: HIGH VOLTAGE.
Well, of course I know CPR. But my pondering was this: if this dude got shocked and plummetted to earth, would I make any attempt to try and save him? Okay, well...at first, I'm thinking yes. But then, I started to think about: would he be all HIGH VOLTAGE and KILL ME if I actually touched him? So then, I'm wondering: could I take a stick and poke him??..and if I saw a sparks then I would know not to touch him...?
So, yeah. I felt pretty bad that I came to a distinct conclusion: I would not help any of these dudes if they got electrocuted and plummeted to the earth. I might jab one or two with a stick...but that would be the extent of my involvement. Well, I might hang out if any of the paramedics needed to borrow my stick...and check for sparks...but yeah...
Anyhow, after pondering the 'to poke with a stick or to not poke with a stick,' moral quandary, I decided I should finish putting myself together and get the hell out of the freezing, dark house and show up at work on time, for a change.
(Needless to say, when everyone saw me arrive early for work, they were shocked...)
har har har...
Epiphanal moment of the day...well...kind of...I had a staring contest with a cat on my way to work and tripped over a branch on the sidewalk...(the cat was behind me and I was walking backwards, so as TO WIN)...and...well...the cat won...which is a real bummer as cats are such smug winners...but I truly doubt the cat could walk backwards while still staring at me just to win, therefore I am the true winner...even though the cat might tell you otherwise...