Installs are Like Back Doors…

No idea where I’m going with it, so I won’t finish that lame simile.

This week has been hellacious. I’ve been busting tail to get installation work done, and going nuts because I’m driving around solo. I haven’t had an easy install yet, although it might just be me looking for "plug n play" installs that people sometimes get. I’ve run so much aerial drop wire, my hands hurt. My shoulders hurt. My farmer tan hurts.

Okay so. Two things happened to me today. 1) I opened up a phone box to see a hornet’s nest. Those guys are aggressive. Like, whoa. There were twenty in the box. I almost died. No stings though. I sprayed the Holy Ghost out of them with wasp killer. Then I found a second nest in the gutter. Queue all-day hornet runaround while I tried to figure out what was going on with the install. Also found a brown recluse in the box. But they’re easy to take care of. Why? THEY DON’T HAVE WINGS. Now every flutter and feathery brush I have against something gives me flashbacks from earlier today. Getting gas? Showering? Typing an OD entry? Those damned hornets are out to get me. They know I am at war with them!

and 2), While I was on a ladder, around twenty feet in the air, a hornet (pissed because it saw me slaughter a family of five) buzzed up tow me. It had hatred in its eyes. I destroyed its nursery. And out of the blue, this cardinal swoops in and eats it. Its wings touched my arm it was so close. Then it landed on the fence not two feet away and sang to me for a few seconds. Like, "Thanks for the meal, brosef! *terrorist fist jab*" It was spiritual. I knew it the moment it happened. I was like, "Cardinal. Friend." And mentally hugged it.

So that was cool. Being in the sweltering sun for… you know… all day. Was kind of cool too. I’m bringing sexy farmer’s tans back.

Also, two days ago I finished my first Soren book, Of Salt and Wine. That makes this the third major rewrite (i.e., half the book rewritten) since I began this project, oh, five years ago. It’s a great book. I don’t know if when it’ll get published. I’ll hint at the ending: he kills a bunch of demons, then goes through an emotional breakdown, THEN opens up shop as a heeealer.

Right. Special audiences, that.

This job is inspiring. I enjoy it, hornets and spiders and mud and dog poop and everything. I REALLY want a day off. But, besides that, it’s pretty rewarding. (But I wouldn’t complain if someone gave me a desk job for the same pay. Hahaha I DO COPYWRITING! I’M A GREAT EDITOR/PROOFREADER!)

Whatevs. This job has already improved my diabetes to where I don’t even notice it, no matter what I eat (yes. I said it. I had a soda the other day. A real one. And I didn’t pass out or start stuttering), and it’s keeping me outside, which is FREAKING AWESOME.

Now I need to go on a float trip. Reals bad. With Heineken, my new favorite beer. Or Porch Rocker, a Sam Adams special that nobody in the world carries except for World Market.