Panic Disorder

We think we have it under control: we have a show, it's lit, the labels applied. Should have plenty of time to do the vinyl signage and hang the last pieces of art on the signage walls, clean up, do janitor stuff. Already people coming in to see the show, a good sign. 18 items on the punch-list to truly finish. Doable. Storm storm cell hits at exactly five-o-clock. I pull over and read for ten minutes, a piece about water use in the west, pretty cute, but it was the next piece in the pile I keep in the truck for emergency reading, reading about the arid west while waiting for a frog-choker of a storm to move through. Serendipity, what? Start home in medium rain (17 miles to my house, three legs, 7, 5, and 5 miles) and before the first leg is done the roads are almost dry, stop at B's new digs, his and Sarah's house, for a beer and chat, but the moment I turn into the last leg, down Mackletree, the roads are covered with debris, tree parts, and it's necessary to stop and drag branches off, and I meet the entire Blue Creek Fire Department, coming out, a pole down, but they've done whatever it is they do (I see no evidence of a fire anywhere, and I'm driving slow, stopping often), the power company, the phone guys, the cable guys, they are all over this overtime shit, their bread and butter, momma needs a new pair of shoes, especially if the beautiful Sofia has worn the last pair through a flood. The uppers release and it's ugly. Suddenly you're walking in nothing. I have one digital clock and it resets to 12 so I know how long the power has been restored. This is a marginally useful piece of information. Big news on the time front is that when I boot up to reset the clock, the minutes are the same. This has never happened before, I never expected it, imagined it might happen, and it does, not the information I need, but information, it's 6:42, so what? I choose to ignore a great many things, I can do this because I live alone, I don't compromise, call it what you will, but there seems to be a factor, maybe it's a fox or a tadpole, any control I would exercise is marginal, my older daughter calls and needs money, how can I not, I actually have the money, if I eat beans, I'll send her a check. I eat beans, mostly, anyway, what is projected, what you can expect.

Three crows
squack, you
don't move
a muscle.