Fire!!!

Now that I have your attention.....

Well, here I am hopped up on Unisom, hoping to beat the sleep-deprivation cycle for....
Just. One. Night. We'll see. I'll let ya know how it goes tomorrow. Oh wait...it is tomorrow.

So anyhow, I just finished a geology paper, a day late, and now that my brain has been tectonically-shifted, and my encephalon is marked with moraines and crevasses, I thought I'd write something with contractions, and lots of sentence fragments. Maybe a comma splice, or two. Please bide the aforementioned sarcasm warning. I don't want anybody going all softy on me, and thinking I have dangerous ideations. And be advised that there is no telling where this might go once the Unisom really kicks in. I imagine something like Erma Bombeck, in a trailer after smoking a quarter-ounce of dope, with a bong.

I got up today at about 12pm. (Yes, that's noon for all you lucky, gainfully employed people) Couldn't sleep last night for stressing about the stupid geology paper so I made up for lost sleep in broad daylight after the kids were off to school. Sinful, I know.

When I got up, I started in on the obnoxious pile of dirty clothes having a loud, head-banging party outside my bedroom door. I loaded up the dryer, half-killed myself reaching over the boxes of detergent and fabric softener and switched the dryer on. Then I got on the phone and talked to my mom. It was a lovely conversation. We have it every day. It's part of our routine.

I answered, "Hello."

She said "Hey, what're you doing?"

I said, "Laundry and homework. What're you doing?"

She said, "Nothing. Just wanted to see what you were doing."

I said, "OK."

She said, "OK."

Then, I turned around, and noticed the smoke billowing out of the laundry room. Then the smell hit me and I stated, "Uh...Mom, I gotta go. Something's on fire." I was so calm. Eerily calm. The thought that crossed my mind in that fleet moment was maybe.....and then it vanished. Poof. Like lighters and Social Security Cards and socks are wont to do in my home. It just vanished.

I opened the dryer. No smoke. I checked the outlet behind the dryer. No smoke. I beat the hell outta Keith's door. No smoke. I checked the garbage can. No smoke. However, after I stopped the dryer the smoke began to dissipate. I still have no idea where the smoke came from and I just hope it doesn't return while I'm asleep. That would suck It was a wee bit disappointing. Keith and David were looking a little freaked, probably because I was so calm. Emergencies do not induce calm in me. Emergencies induce profound panic and profuse profanity.

And then it hit me. I actually considered, for that half-of-a-half-of-a-second, letting it just keep on smoking. I actually considered grabbing the marshmallows, putting the dog on a leash and waiting it out. Most of my neighbors would have waited with me in anxious anticipation. And they would have encouraged me to wait at least 10 minutes before I called the fire department. They can relate.

Yes, it's close to being that bad. But not that close. My trailer is ugly. It's cold in the winter, and unbearably hot in the summer. You couldn't pay me to invite anybody - even family - over for dinner. There are holes in the floor, the windows leak, and I have to share my bathroom with three teenagers. The AC doesn't work, the dishwasher is falling through the floor, we've had to chase possums and chipmunks outside on occasion and the front door blows open in the middle of the night sometimes when it storms.

BUT at least, I'm not in danger of foreclosure. And if I cancel all the other amenities of life, we can still afford the note even if David got laid off and I don't find a job in the near future. We probably couldn't eat, but we'd still have a place to live.

Moral of the Story

Some blessings are underestimated. Having a home...no matter how wretched and condemnable it is, is better than being homeless.

The Fast and the Infuriating

Let me make it clear upfront that I'm not big on driving. It is far from my favorite activity. If I never had to drive again, I'd probably be cool with that. If I could have a super power it would be teleportation. Then I'd have no need for a car. I do, however, enjoy movies and video games that involve driving. I thought Death Race was a good remake. I liked The Italian Job and The Transporter movies. The Fast and the Furious was okay, but a bit overrated, IMHO. Some of my favorite driving games are Forza Motorsports, Need for Speed, Midnight Club and Dirt. I do not enjoy some of the adverse side effects titles like these produce.

The street racing mentality chaps my hide. It is usually exhibited by young men, I'd say under the age of 25 or so. For these particular individuals, movies and video games have bled over into real life. Yesterday, while I was driving down Airways with three kids in the car, I was first passed by a Mustang, then a Charger, then a beat-to-Hell-and-gone turbo-charged Supra. All of the above were well over the speed limit in rush hour traffic. The Mustang driver seemed oblivious to the fact that the Charger and Supra were trying hard to catch up, and presumably blow his doors off. The Charger might have had a chance. The Supra sounded like a dying giraffe and looked like it had been driven off of a cliff several times. They were lined up at the red light when I made my turn, thankful that I didn't have to witness the potential idiocy.

Here's my point. Games are not REAL. Movies are not REAL. Neither are meant to be REAL. Street racing in the movies is done in a controlled environment by professionals. *Street racing* in movies is glamorized, because it sells tickets. Street racing, IRL, is dangerous, dumb and potentially deadly. Individuals who engage in it are not only jeopardizing their own lives, but the lives of everyone else on the roads with them. That includes many of my family members and friends. Do everybody a favor, and *%$#*^ quit it!

Addendum: I do find it rather amusing that whenever I drive David's Honda Civic, I have people pull up next to me, and want to race. The look on their faces when they see a 40 year old female behind the wheel is pretty priceless. Nonetheless, they still want to race???? Wtf???