Drone

There it is again. They take a perfectly good word away from me. They should have to make up a new word. Neither here nor there. Something woke me, and I just laid there, it was very dark; one o'clock in the morning and overcast. I listened closely, turning my hand in front of my face until I could almost see it; I think the noise is coming from the outhouse, and I think about that. Andy, my light bulb guy (we buy a lot of light bulbs), keeps me well supplied with small LED flashlights and I have one stashed wherever I might sleep. I had the thought that I had forgotten something, got the nearest flashlight (under the corner of the mattress), and went downstairs to check. Yes, I had neglected to bring in the coffee-can in which I keep a roll of toilet paper on my last trip to the outhouse. This story has legs. Several generations ago, a coon figured out where I kept the toilet paper (in a coffee can, so it doesn't get wet, toilet paper is one of the most hygroscopic things ever) and had befouled the outhouse with stringers of paper. And he seems to have passed it down through several generations. What I'm hearing, I'm pretty sure, is two coons fighting over a roll of toilet paper. I can pass on that, roll over and go back to sleep. I get to town early enough to get a protein smoothie at Kroger (30 grams of protein, 4 servings of fruits and vegetables) and go below the floodwall. The river is wrapped in fog, I can't even see the Perkins Bridge and it can't be more than a quarter mile away. I could barely see a tow of barges, right in front of me. Staff meeting at nine, M tasks me with fabricating a portable light strip we can use for testing instruments and bulbs. I've wanted one of these for years. Then C tasks me with finding and cleaning an area upstairs where we can work on a show she wants to put on the road. We'd need to store the work, devise some packing, and build mounts for many of the pieces; sounds like fun, I enjoy building mounts. I recommended the back of the third floor, and she agreed it would work, but driving home I realized all of our fabrication equipage is at the front of the third floor, and that I should bite the bullet, and clean out that area, which is a disaster. It'd be easier in the long run. I need to take some funky clothes in. The pub was closed again today, last day of the remodel, and I went over to see how they were doing. Under control, they'll have it opened again tomorrow. I'd like to stop in for a beer, one night this week, talk trash with the staff. They all look like I look after I've hung a major show. Wasted. Walked over to Kroger, to get a few things, juice, cream, some fresh corn, before the five o'clock rush; got some sushi for lunch, and I couldn't eat all of it, so I took it home. Late last night I opened a tin of duck liver pate, had it with a divine hot pepper mayonnaise on unsalted crackers. Also, I have to admit, nothing is what it seems. I think.