You're not the only ones who thought I was dead.
I missed a scheduled shift at work. (All my own fault; I mis-remembered which days they shifted me, and got it forked up.) And, as I'm of the generation that learned to exist without being tethered to the 'net 24/7/365/forever (you may have noticed the light posting hereabouts) I left my phone charging in the car. Where I couldn't see nor hear it buzzing, ringing, vibrating, nor any of the other cacophony of electronic claptrap as various among my supervisors and co-workers called, texted, etc., your humble bloghost to ask us whereinhell we were, since we weren't processing meat in the ER at our appointed hour. Without any explanation.
This struck them as so out of character, they convinced themselves we were in grave distress, and persisted in their hyperventilations to the point of sending the local constabulary to seek us out and determine our life status.
It was evidently a busy night, but a slow morning, and thinking ourself work-free for several days, we had stayed up watching a Marvel movie marathon, in chronological order, through "Avengers: Civil War", and we were consequently sleeping in the following morning.
(Bearing well in mind that our typical awake working schedule has been nights for about 25 years.)
But come about 11AM, it being a slow day for the City's Finest, not one but three black and whites showed up, bearing five rather LARGE police officers, intent on giving us a rousing cop-knock reveille. (For the record, I recommend one's own alarm clock). I awoke to the pounding thinking someone was working on a fender across the alley, because other than giving the door a PR-24 shampoo, they uttered not a sound.
I almost convinced myself after I was fully awake that I had dreamt the whole thing, but decided to investigate a wee bit further before returning to my pillow.
Which was fortunate, because that's when we spied about half the city's PD day shift arrayed all up in our domicile's grill. We were now fully awake, but perplexed, as we had not, to our knowledge, committed any bank robberies, mass murders, nor any other actual deliberate felonies, and we hadn't heard any hue and cry regarding pursuit of any other violent outlaws to our neighborhood. As we heard them questioning the neighbor about the last time anyone had seen us, and whether they had, perchance, heard a single gunshot, we began to dress to meet the day. As a general rule of thumb, whatever's coming your way is better addressed with you wearing both shoes and trousers. When the mail slot snapped open, and we heard one of them report no smell of bodily decay within, we began dressing more rapidly.
But when Huey, Dewey, and Louie began discussing whether breaking in a window or the front door would be best, fun and games were decidedly over.
We called out that we'd be out as soon as we had our pants on, then proceeded to exit the premises rapidly afterwards. They expressed astonishment that we had slept through what had apparently been several rounds of urgent door pounding, along with relief at not having to retrieve and then babysit a pungently expired corpse until the coroner showed up (a relief matched, if not surpassed, by my own at not having them see the general state of my man cave, the mere sight of which would have assured them of a burglary in progress, a duel to the death, and or an imminent military coup - or all three - had recently occurred within, in any particular order), and once assured by presentation of valid ID that I was the body in question, and explained what must have happened, they inquired ever so sweetly if I would, perchance, care to call my employer to assure them that rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated?
Once I agreed to do so in haste, they went about their business, while some of my sketchier neighbors began to slink back into their own homes, having gone out their back doors and such when they saw the panda car party entourage descending upon my house.
So no, I'm not dead, nor laying low or "going dark". Nor, really, taking a vacation, except from blogging. The last because the PC up and died last month. We have a new machine on deck to replace it, but it really is quite the PITA to dig out the cables and connections to pull out the dead one and install the replacement, with work and a couple of other projects sucking up our time quite handily. So we continue using the obsolescent touchscreen notepad.
One of which projects is rejuvenating a 120-year-old Krag, which has suffered both a longtime lack of preventative maintenance sufficient to call forth the ghosts of generations of drill instructors and give their spirits a serious case of the @$$ - obvious exterior rust will do that - coupled with a surplus of Bubbination to the OEM milspec sights, and replacement with vintage mid-century cheeseball Redfield peep sights, with elevation and windage mechanisms, both of which are as rusted as the exterior of the rest of the piece.
All original value being thusly buggered, we've begun stripping the whole thing to the white, preparatory to restoring it to as-issued condition, and reblueing it and rehabilitating the stock until it looks like either a high grade replica brand new, or an issue arm circa 1898.
(We're leaning towards pretty over functional, and are willing to work on it until the blue looks like a Colt Python frame circa 1970, from the Custom Shop, and the stock looks like something from the expensive rack at a London bespoke arms dealer. Since the thing looks like @$$ now, we can only improve on it at every turn.)
Then we're going to get it dialed in, because any gun we can't shoot, we don't want.
So between that, putting together some new IFAKs for any future unpleasantness, and getting our butt kicked several nights a week with all the critical COVID cases and deaths the jet-genius Gilligans of the Internet assure you are a mythological communist disinformation campaign, time for keyboarding is running a distant fourth place in the How Ima Spend My Time Weekly Sweepstakes.
It isn't a permanent thing, but the general idiocy about things medical, scientific, and political hasn't improved since we were last at it, and anyone who thinks that positive change this side of Labor Day is likely hasn't been paying very close attention.
Make prudent preparations for seriously $#!^^!#£ times, and you'll seldom be disappointed by things being all wonderful, over a long enough timeframe.
And if you haven't done much, or enough, then get cracking.
OTOH, if you're in good shape WRT general preparedness, water, food, finances, and so on -- including regarding Kung Flu - count it all joy.
And start asking "What if?s", just to be sure.
"Don't forget nothing." - Roberts' Rangers Rules
We'll be back at this presently, and rest assured, with all sorts of breaking opinion on the perennial ooze of civilization into the compost heap of history.
Look to yourselves in the meantime, and invest some time in meatspace with helping some worthwhile prospect(s) with even more catching up to do than you for any version - Pollyanna, Middling, or Curmudgeonly - of What's Coming.
P.S. - And if you don't think I'll be meme-dunking on Hidin' Biden [ (c) Raconteur Report 2020)] , and then trash-talking while hanging on the rim, you must be new around these parts.
Hooray! Welcome back! And worst recurring nightmare of mine is missing a shift...ReplyDelete
Our rural ohio ER starting to pick up again.
Don't worry about commenting.ReplyDelete
The Usual Idiots just updated Blogger, which now won't show me my bloghost page, the stats, let me manage comments, or edit posts.
Apparently, the Gang Of Fuckups at Goofgle is now run by the prople who tjought up New Coke, and tech support is delicered by the @$$holes who invented the ObozoCare web page interface.
Aesop, I am going through the Blogger conversion too. A miserable experience all around. Glad you are okay.ReplyDelete
Really weird things are going on with Blogger. It dropped post labels from about the last 2 months.ReplyDelete
I'm glad to see you're doing OK and as usual can write a very entertaining post. Take care :)ReplyDelete
Got to say, my FIL and I had begun to wonder if'n you'd caught the Covid crap yourself. Patiently awaiting your return to my morning read.ReplyDelete
Glad it was nothing 'serious'... And good luck resurrecting both the computer and the gun!ReplyDelete
Welcome back - missed the acerbic wit. I too was concerned given the demise of Woodpile.ReplyDelete
I know you are on the front lines. I would be curious on your views on Hydrochloroquinine.ReplyDelete
Spelling might not be good but I think it has some promise.
All quiet on the western front?ReplyDelete
Welcome Back friend! We've missed your no-nonsense take on most everything-especially the ever expanding covid-19 experience. I have missed birthday gifts lined up in my second bedroom like proverbial 747s waiting to take off. My mask collection is growing. I sometimes think that I need a hearing test, then realize you can't hear anyone wearing a mask. Everyone is terrified of everything with Covid-19. Add the communists on the move, and an actual Dementia patient running for President; we are truly blessed in the SHTF scenario. So saddle up and let's ride!ReplyDelete
I missed a shift once. After that I checked the schedule before staying awake, before sleeping, and after awakening. The date was from the newspaper, then from a little program I wrote in basic to connect to one of the internet timeservers to reset computer time & date; later the operating system would do it on its own, and they all still do.ReplyDelete
Well, if you do see this, I wish you the best of luck on the Krag restoration. I have a 1873 Winchester in similar work, along with a Trapdoor Springfield. Also looking into converting a Uberti Colt Walker to .45 BPM, as well.ReplyDelete
Welcome back! Life, getting busy? Nah.ReplyDelete
Me, last week on Monday morning when the alarm went off I said to myself, "Why didn't I shut the alarm down for Saturday?"
Needless to say, when the fog cleared I was fairly sad - nothing like going to work when you thought it was the *start* of the weekend.
Now the air conditioner is out.
Long time lurker here after running across you on Weaponsman back in the day.ReplyDelete
Glad to hear your still on the "blade" side of the grass mate.
That's a relief, Aesop. After the loss of Ol' Remus, I, for one, was worried. I'm sure I wasn't alone.ReplyDelete
I had to try.ReplyDelete
Glad to read you ain'tn't dead as Granny Weatherwax would say.ReplyDelete
I figured you were off Doing Better Things than entertaining your blog readers. Godspeed, and have fun with the reclamation project.
(P.S. New report on mask efficacy done more carefully than the spray bottle or vape smoke try rando tests over in the comments at Wilder is interesting.)
perhaps in these times we might reflect:ReplyDelete
FYI, the natives are restless and want you to fog a mirror for 'em.ReplyDelete
Congratulations on NOT being the dead guy, found when his co workers called the cops, worried about him. When the keel becomes stabilized again,m I will eagerly await your thoughts.ReplyDelete
Hey! Don't knock those "cheeseball mid-century Redfield sights"! :)ReplyDelete
I learned to shoot peep with on of them and took it into the deer woods. Receiver mount on side of dad's 1947 M70 30-06. Still have it in fact as a scope back up on that rifle.
Aesop I hope while your not posting your getting in some sailing lessons and refitting a sailboat as a survival pod as we've spoken about before. Some 70 days until real chaos erupts. Better a few buried 40 gallon screw top barrels with critical supplies AND a non electronic way to find them and recover them then plenty in a house surrounded by fames and idiots. Part of that buried cache needs to include heavy duty plastic sheeting for shelter, rain water collection and lining a pit water storage, aluminum screen materials for keeping bugs out and solar food dehydrator trays along with that plastic sheeting as "glass". Even small solar panels and fans to make life a lot better fits nicely in there along with some tools and such.ReplyDelete
I'd rather be a seas nomad for a while until the cities stop burning than fighting the Alamo in a flammable non bullet resistant home.
Rise and shine, Boss. Time to start BDA's. !-WIA, 2-KIA Kenosha last night.ReplyDelete
My concern is how fast this spreads. I KNOW how fast the Kent State occurrence spread AT THAT TIME, and THAT was without the Net, etc.
We are missing you.ReplyDelete
In Europe, Sweden had the answer, and in the US South Dakota had the answer. No masks and gloves; only hand washing.ReplyDelete
For all practical purposes, those under 10 years of age are immune; those under 40 are nearly so. Yes, I'm over 70 and therefore have increased risk, though I have no additional underlying health problems.
Last, everybody dies, nobody gets out alive.