I HESITATE TO TEMPT FATE

It has been a heck of a two-and-a-half weeks.

By now you all know that I had to execute a rapid evacuation from one apartment due to a flying squirrel invasion. I had a lovely but thankfully brief stay at a wonderful hotel, slept in a mostly-empty apartment on top of storage bins, and crippled my friends and family asking them to move a few pieces of heavy furniture since there quite literally was zero time to contact movers. I had to get out of there tout suite.

In the course of The Event, I waited two weeks for internet access, survived amid chaos, managed to pull off a flawless Christmas Eve gathering and meal, and enjoyed an amazing holiday experience with family and friends. I am still unpacking my life even as I pack up Christmas, earlier than I usually do but with necessity to gain organizational traction. I honestly did have a rough few days of absolute mental and physical exhaustion. 

Then, something happened. A co-worker who retired in June passed away on December 22nd.

For the love of all things sane, I encountered a flying squirrel and had to move. This makes great blog fodder, but it's hardly earth shattering. What is earth shattering is someone finally retiring from the grind that is our business (working in a municipality for the public), potentially facing the best years of his life, and then it's just . . . over.

So, as I look around the mayhem that currently is my life, and as I pack up what is usually the best time of the year for me, I am thankful that I am still here and healthy and able to share my tales of insanity.

Glad to see 2023 in the rearview mirror, but also looking forward to 2024. I hesitate to tempt fate and say it will be a better year, but I will poke the bear and say, "Please, if it could be rodent-free, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Happy New Year to all.  

OFFLINE

 I am without internet.

 It has been a brutal battle between Verizon, who sold me a package that cannot be hooked up in my new apartment, and Xfinity, who wanted to charge me $100 just to drive into the parking lot.

The only one losing here is me.

I have my cell phone for connecting, and thanks for that. Both internet companies tried to get me to jump ship from my longtime phone service.

Hell to the NO. 

This little company got me through the Great Merrimack Valley Gas Disaster. If only they had residential internet service.

So far, Verizon is in the lead. But, the outcome depends on holes being drilled and wires being run. Friday. The appointment was made over a week ago. That's two weeks waiting for them to hook me up. So far, Verizon's customer sevice sucks. I really don't hold much hope.

The worst part is that I am missing all the Hallmark Christmas movies. Oh, well. There's always July.

THE DAYS ARE FLYING BY . . . LITERALLY

'Twas twelve days before Christmas,

And all through the house

A creature was stirring -

It was NOT a mouse.

I heard it tear-assing

Throughout the whole place

And I got just a glimpse of its rump

(Not its face).

It wasn't an elf

Nor even a rat.

No, my dear friends,

It was BIGGER than that. 

I chased it around

And I screamed just a bit,

Which is probably what caused it

To scuttle and shit.

I couldn't quite find it

Despite all my trying.

Turns out 'twas a squirrel

(The kind that goes flying).

I called for the workers

To come please tout suite

But I think maybe they all

Decided to eat

Rather than come 

And provide me with aid.

By then, what a mess

That shit-head had made.

For three days they chased it

In the chimney and round

But only disaster in its

Wake could be found.

I cried to the agents,

"'Tis a serious matter!"

But they just assumed that

I was full of chatter.

I stayed in a hotel

Afraid to be home.

I mean, a flying squirrel

Could dive-bomb at my dome!

Finally, the agent and I

Talked. She said,

"I hate to inform you

We found the squirrel dead."

It didn't surprise me

Because the bait trap

Was turned on its top

And surrounded by crap.

She seemed quite surprised 

When I mentioned the poison.

Apparently no bait was 

Put down by the boys in.

And that's when it hit me:

The mouse from long past.

I put the traps down!

I killed the bast(ard).

I had to demand that

They close the fireplace

Because they were too dumb

To think of that space.

And now I am moving

To the building next door.

If I see any rodents

This place won't stand anymore.

Happy holidays. You're all getting squirrel pie.

POURING FOR A PARADE

The weather last weekend was horrible. It snowed north and west of where I live, but it rained buckets here. This kind of stuff often breeds stupid driving and multiple accidents, so I wasn't surprised to hear the sudden shrieking of many, many sirens during the deluge.

I live near the highway ramp, close enough to watch vehicles exit and enter and also close enough to hear the downshifting of big rigs passing by during the night. It doesn't bother me at all. I lived for years with route 495 as my backyard and witnessed numerous interesting events, including a hot air balloon landing on the highway, a small plane putting down on the highway and just missing the overpass, an eighteen-wheeler tipping over while I just happened to be looking out the dining room window, and the crazy non-movement of highway traffic (and subsequently snow-covered vehicles) during the blizzard of 1978.

My instant thought last weekend during this downpouring of buckets of rain, though, was that there must be a massive pile-up on route 93 because the number of sirens and the strength of the sound overwhelmed all other noise, including the music I had playing inside my home. 

But, I was wrong. It was no accident. It was the town's Santa Parade.

Not only did I completely forget that this same event tricked me this same way last year, but I was completely befuddled that the town didn't cave to weather concerns when a parade is scheduled. I meandered to an outside window in the hallway to watch the fun (and to stay dry), and was so happy to see the number of kiddos and families who hurried out to catch Santa and the other floats swing by. You see, the people of the neighborhoods don't go to see the parade; the town brings the parade to the people of the neighborhoods. And this year they did so despite the horrible, detestable weather.

Kudos to the parade committee and participants, kudos to the town for following through, and kudos to the families who cared enough to brave the weather and support this great event. After all, with the weather we've been having for the last twenty weeks or so, apparently it's going to rain sheets and walls of water every weekend, anyway. Since we can't beat it, we might as well join it.

WRAPPING UP MY SANITY

Currently the FedEx, UPS, USPS, and Amazon delivery people are my best friends. 

It's not so much that I am trying to make my life easier by ordering holiday gifts online as it is that I am sick and tired of being my own cashier at the check-out. I've done my stint in retail, and I'm over it. Besides, I am not getting any employee discounts at these stores, so why would I do self-checkout?

Next comes the part that I really hate: wrapping. I don't know why, but I despise wrapping stuff. Unfortunately, it is as necessary a part of the holiday season as eating over-baked and under-decorated cookies. So, I set up my wrapping station, which must be moved, rearranged, put away, and taken out over and over again because I do need my kitchen table from time to time.

I'm in decent shape for now. I've wrapped enough stuff to have several shipping boxes complete and ready to go to UPS. My goal is to enjoy the entire last week of Advent by having nothing other than partying and cooking on my proverbial plate. Every year I swear I will be ready and able to relax, and every year it is an epic failure.

This year will be different. Or so I believe.

Right now, much as I love them and count on them, my delivery people are letting me down (through no fault of their own). Several items, regardless of how early I ordered the stuff, is delayed, delayed, delayed. Today I helped the Amazon delivery person get into the package room here at the complex, hoping that at least one of my items might arrive today. 

No such luck, though. I get home to an email update: Your items are now delayed until at least Tuesday. Sweet. Just flaming sweet.

In the meantime, I'll wrap like a demon on a holiday sugar high. If I eat enough chocolate and sip enough wine, I probably won't mind wrapping anymore. (The recipients might.) Maybe by the end of it all, my Grinch Wrapping heart will grow three sizes. I mean, I wouldn't place bets on it, but, like the delayed shipping on my items, I can always remain hopeful of holiday miracles.