So I go back to snoozeville only to be buzzed awake four hours later with someone asking why I hadn't picked up an empty trailer yet. I was annoyed but gave a short reply instead of the one I would have given had I been just a bit more frazzled:
Dear Santa: Until moments ago I was cuddling with my inflatable Rosie O'Donnell doll (you know, the one with the flannel negligee and matching pleather unmentionables) but one of your elves insisted on waking me up. Again. I wanted so many things for Christmas this year, but now all I really want is a big set of shears so I can snip the cable on my Mobile Max unit and see how far I can shot putt the unit into the parking lot. Yours with abundant flatulence -- Jim
As you can tell, this episode was disturbing, though perhaps not as disturbing as that peek inside the boiling cauldron that is my too-early-in-the-morning consciousness.
I'm off to pick up here shortly, then this will be close to the route I follow:
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I'm going by Joplin to grab a new load lock. Hopefully my truck won't get turned down to 65 in the process (if it has to go to the shop they will neuter it, unfortunately).
