O frabjous day!

[shereads]

Woke up in a cold panic at 4:30 a.m, remembering a project that had to be finished before my office's weekly Monday morning meeting. Forced down coffee. Grumbled at dog. Sat down to begin work. Heard mention of Columbus Day Regatta on local news. Realized we have the day off.

Even better than sleeping late is the sudden realization that you could have.

The queen is retiring to her chamber for an after-coffee nap. So long, worker bees.



Still procrastinating,

SR

 

[cantdog]

Yep. I'm no fan of Mr. Columbus, either. But I'll take the day off.

That's the part I never got about the fellows who didn't like martin Luther King, Jr. day. So you didn't like him! So what? All we're asking you to do is take the day off; can't you handle a day off?

cantdog

 

[shereads]

Zzzzz

 

[cantdog]

I never had a job with Columbus Day off, myself; but sleep well, sher. Flights of angels.

 

[minsue]

I never had a job with Columbus Day off, myself; but sleep well, sher. Flights of angels.

Ah, poor Cant. It's a beautiful thing, believe me.

 

[shereads]

I never had a job with Columbus Day off, myself; but sleep well, sher. Flights of angels.

In Miami, the likelihood of being given Columbus Day off is in direct proportion to the number of upper management suits who own boats or are invited to be aboard someone else's for the Columbus Day Regatta, a vast drunken festival of nudity, lunch-tossing, 3rd degree sunburn and an avergage of one fatal accident per year, that is also said to include a boat race. I think the race is an urban legend.

 

[neonlyte]

I think the race is an urban legend.

Don't you mean a bourbon legend?

 

[cantdog]

Ah. Only the hardiest go in for nudity in October up this way. But the fucking-rug in front of the fireplace is already in season. We've had fires already a couple of times.

 

[neonlyte]

Ah. Only the hardiest go in for nudity in October up this way. But the fucking-rug in front of the fireplace is already in season. We've had fires already a couple of times.

I'd keep a bucket of water handy - or a boy scout.

 

[cantdog]

Can't use 'em, pard. Boy scouts, I mean. You grab 'em, beat out the flames with them, you know, and they feel like heroes; but then, once they realize there's no glory in it, they're doing their hair that day, the next time you call. Fickle. A badge for Being Used To Smother Flames, and we might get better service.

The ones we called that time when the chicken house was on fire talked about nothing but the incredible stench, and for weeks! Not one had any interest in another chicken house fire, despite the visuals of flaming birds like comets scooting out the doorways. Burning feathers is really a powerful aversive stimulus. Maybe as strong as EST.

 

[neonlyte]

Can't use 'em, pard. Boy scouts, I mean. You grab 'em, beat out the flames with them, you know, and they feel like heroes; but then, once they realize there's no glory in it, they're doing their hair that day, the next time you call. Fickle. A badge for Being Used To Smother Flames, and we might get better service.

The ones we called that time when the chicken house was on fire talked about nothing but the incredible stench, and for weeks! Not one had any interest in another chicken house fire, despite the visuals of flaming birds like comets scooting out the doorways. Burning feathers is really a powerful aversive stimulus. Maybe as strong as EST.

What were they doing in there? Smoking?

 

[cantdog]

It was a little town called Charleston with a boarding school in it. The chicken house was down the road a piece, but it was fought, well, actually, the salvage was done by bystander volunteers, including a boy scout troop which was meeting in the school at the time.

Wet, burnt, chicken feathers and wet, burnt chicken dung. Plus the distinctive stench of structure fires everywhere.

Not pleasant.

I was a teacher then, and had dorm-parent duty, so I only saw everyone go and saw them (and smelled them!) when they came back.