A wave from work
These have indeed been some sad days. I've been running hard on the job, arriving home in pretty poor shape. Poor Luka's been having to cope with a sore, sleepy Skullard for a while now . . . one with barely enough energy to check his email, much less post in his LiveJournal. Still, this isn't intended to be an "Ah, poor me" post. This is instead intended to be a jovial wave to all and sundry, letting y'all know I still think about ya and care.
I'm actually at a the local library on my route. I had to pay $20 to get a card here, since I'm not a state resident, but since I spend more time in this town during the week than I do in my own, I thought it would be nice to be able to use the net on those few opportunities this job's schedule allows. Plus, the library has AC, which is nothing short of delicious in these middle weeks of August. Later, I'm sure to sing the praises of the heating system since I intend to defrost here a time or two during the Winter months.
Not being someone who's too shy to brag, I'd like to wave my vegi-flag and state that as of Aug. 1st it has been two whole years of the meatless life for yours truly. I'm still a little stunned at how easy it's been, frankly. Sure, I have daily cravings con carne, but it's been surprisingly handle-able. I couldn't do it if Luka wasn't already a vegitarian herself, mind you. How she was able to stick to her dietary guns while I was eating chicken right in front of her for so many years is beyond me and speaks volumes to her strength of will.
The fact that she hasn't beaned me with a shovel is also a testiment to said will, but that's a given. And I have to say, she looks SO cute standing there, holding that shovel.
And speaking of shoveling, I've been picking up a lot more dog poop lately. Call it a hobby. Actually, Luka and I are doing some volunteer time at the local animal shelter which is kinda a hoot. Basically, I walk dogs. None of them are aware of my delivery job, so they're all glad to see me. I walk them around, sing to them, pick up their leavings, and rub their bellies if I think they'll drop me a tip.
I don't like to complain about the heat, so I won't. I spend almost half the year complaining about the cold and I wouldn't feel right bitching about NOT being cold. I did, however, have to get a pretty short haircut to get rid of some of my natural insulation. As a classic long-hair type from back in college days, there's something drastically wrong about telling the stylist-lady to have at it with the half-inch clippers. It makes me feel like I've been enlisted, which is a kinda sucky feeling when you know you're not really allowed to shoot anyone, actually. Am I suggesting that some haircuts should be accompanied by a firearm? Am I? Nah, I just miss my hippy-hair.
The downside of suntans: scar tissue doesn't tan. Don't tan unless you're willing to answer the question, "What happened there?"
Anyway, it's back to the van for me. Another couple of deep breaths of cool AC, and . . .