An Inversion

Late onset, extremely localized, very dense fog, locked on town. Thick as I've ever seen. Below the floodwall, on the lower road, you can't see the river 50 feet away. It's like a Science Fiction movie, mutated catfish crawling from the water and eating people, slime monsters dissolving cars. The fog bank ends right at the Scioto River where it empties into the Ohio, like a big inverted bowl with the New Bridge abutments rising out of the cloud (they're 336 feet tall). It doesn't smell or taste that I can tell. I need to read up on fog, and tidal nodes, they came up yesterday, in conversation with Tony. He'd mentioned that his dog liked the ocean in Key West, because the waves were small, and I had lived there, knew the tides were very small, inches, so what is a tidal node? I only know it is one. Also once spent a night on the shores of the Bay Of Fundy where the tides are 45 feet and watched a standing wave you could surf. I'm sensing a Bell Curve here, most tides are probably 4 feet, or maybe 6, then there are the far ends, 5 inches and 50 feet; a standing wave goes up the Amazon every day. Enough with the fog, I think, I've got a full plate and not enough time, so I go to the bakery for coffee and scones and Liz greets me with upraised arms. The second batch of scones are still in the oven, if I'll just pay she'll deliver them, she already has orders for a dozen, knows where everybody works, knows where the back door is. Warm scones delivered at the door is an unexpected treat, come on, hand delivery of fresh pastries, whatever the circumstance, would have to be considered a good thing. Another day like yesterday, I have a list of things I need to do. Borrow the Deputy's van to deliver some art to the hospital, they over-bought, four things, colorful, to decorate the lobby of the new Hospice, they've got the money, they're swimming in money, and the lobby needs some color. When I finally find it. They're building so many buildings so fast no one can keep track. I ask three people at the main hospital and they don't have a clue where the Gibson Building is, I find it by accident, trying to get back out and admit defeat. I find Jennifer, first door on the right, the messiest office I've ever seen, and she's one of those smallish women filled with energy, bursting, so happy to see me. You know it's a fake persona but you go along with it. She has a good job and she knows it. Decorating waiting rooms. I get the Deputy's van back without a scratch, my goal, and wonder about the politic. I (the janitor) using the Deputy's van (which is totally trashed with baby stuff and water bottles and juice containers) to deliver art to a place that can afford it, when the market is tanking. Something is wrong. The Palin Ticket is wrong, consider the Supreme Court. Scary. I'd probably move to Canada.