“Remoted” – Workday 141 / Day 205 (Wednesday)

We were promised strong winds and at 2:20 pm, it was kicking up and the tree out back was waving wildly. It eased up a bit, but came back with a vengeance at 5:45 pm. The sudden pelting rain and howling wind reminded me I hadn't checked the mail or the mum in the flower pot on the deck rail that I meant to take off the railing and either set on the deck floor or bring into the porch. The loud thud made me think I was a few seconds too late.

Dang. I liked that flower pot.

Sure enough, despite three daily alerts this week from USPS saying that I have mail coming, for the third straight day, there was no mail. Thank you Postmaster General. Worse, the mum had blown off the railing and was on the ground between the house and the trash bin. The clay pot it sat in until about a minute earlier, one of the few remaining flower pots after a string of broken pottery, was shattered. It was raining hard, began to thunder, and the dogs were in the porch looking at me through the storm door like I was totally deranged standing outside. I kind of felt deranged as the rain penetrated two layers, wetting the skin on my back and arms. If only I’d grabbed a jacket in my haste to bring in the pot. I’d still have a smashed flower pot, but at least I would have stayed dry. 

The thunder prompted me to get Moose into the Thunder Shirt, and once in it, he settled on the couch for nap #57 of the day. Black cherry tea helped to chase my chill from the outdoor adventure. Changing out of my two wet shirts would have helped, too, but that didn’t happen. The wind and rain died down and it was mostly quiet outside again, until replaced by the loud muffler of the car next door.

Napping.

I do not understand the next-door neighbors. All year long, they start their cars and let them run in the driveway unoccupied, for anywhere between five minutes and forever. That is zero miles per gallon, people! It was especially fun around 3:30 in the afternoon this summer. I would be working and the guy next door was dropped off by the big pickup truck that picks him up around 7 am. He would bounce out of the truck and start his car with the loud muffler and the exhaust would drift into my open office window. And the guy would go inside the house. 

One warm day when the windows were open, the car was running, and I was especially annoyed, I learned that crank out windows suck for expressing aggravation by slamming one shut. You can’t. You crank and crank until it’s closed. No noise. No sounds of irritation for the offender to possibly hear. There is no slamming the vinyl windows either. What is this world coming to? Can’t slam the phone, can’t slam the windows, and if the storm door closes first, the kitchen exterior door doesn’t slam either. If I was in a fight with someone, how would I make a dramatic exit? When I was a kid it was possible to slam the doors so hard the house shook. No wonder people are so wound up. There is nothing to slam. Or maybe it’s just me.