I don’t remember where I parked it, but my wagon is around here somewhere. As soon as I find it I am cinching the team and rolling out for the country. The holiday schedule was never supposed to last until June. It is time for some austerity measures.
No more Johnny Funtime until I feel reasonably sure I could save myself from most run of the mill catastrophes. These include my usual concerns…
Escaping a stadium full of panicked and stampeding hordes (best option is to shelter in place.)
Snake encounters of all kinds. I saw a Cottonmouth and a Rattler on friday. Either could have run me down.
Running out of gas and walking to the nearest exit. (Right now that could be a two day bivy.)
Multiple gate changes at the ATL airport.
Until I feel I can survive those and many other threats I will be over here sulking in the corner with some carrot juice.
I’m with you! So much for my Sierra Club work vacations which would be sure to involve one or two of those, huh?
You could come out to Lloyd and pretend you were on vacation. Help take snakes out of the hen house and so forth.
You could probably make it on foot in about a day and a half. Wagon? Oh hell, a few hours if your horse is frisky.
Every day in the Nenes is a holiday … even (especially?) if you flee from the neighbors back into your crib.
Give me a break man, I was in my underwear.
Who is going to watch your 2 aged dogs and 12 feral cats? Or water your chickens, or plow your kale? Such breaks from the Nenes have, in the past, resulted in ones lover moving in with a lesbian; be careful.
And send me a postcard.
Whoa! I’m always kinda looking for a house in the Nene’s, but now I’m not so sure. My wife is always leaving town, and I’d hate for her to come home and find I’d moved in with a lesbian.