Every 60 seconds...
There's a sucker born. It was my time again, I guess. So now I am gonna be singing karaoke with this fine young woman, Laura. A delectable morsel of a bartender at one of the spots I hit with some regularity. A friend told me I was an easy touch...basically, get a few (or a few more!) drinks in me and I will do almost anything. It's true, for the most part. Except for piloting the beloved Jeep home in a state that would make her mad. And make me look stupid. And make me jeopardize everything in this dimension. So anyway, Thursday the 3rd, I will be singing Paradise by the Dashboard Lights. Oh boy. It's been a while since I sang that on a stage. Since my double-ex (of some seriousness) and I out on Tuckahoe Road...memories.
So, I went out for my nightly (for the most part) run, and decided that I should drive out to the Garden of the Gods instead of hitting the asphalt in the neighborhood. Terrific trails to get lost in. So I did. About an hour. Totally beat and exhausted and regretting it and loving it at the same time. So I climbed up the bumper and laid down on the hood, watching the daytime go to sleep. Then, and this was a splendid thing, a thunderstorm rolled in from the North. And there was sunset, still trickling in from the West, the moon trying to get out from behind the clouds, and lightning. I love it. Made the rest of the humdrum seem better. Worth it.
So let me run you through an average day in the life. 5:27 the alarm rings and by then, a cat has usually been a pest enough to wake me anyway. So I beg the alarm clock to make the next 7 minutes of snooze-time seem like an hour. Never works. But I always ask. I roll out of bed and sometimes step on another cat. Probably Biscuit, who won't sleep on the bed, but will sleep right next to it on the floor. Nice. I turn on the news and weather channel, and make sure to seee my local on the 8's so I know just how rough the day will be to me. I make something for breakfast and try to enjoy it, eyeing the clock every couple minutes. After donning my work clothes, I grab both my work cell and my personal cell and head downstairs. Aidan (the giant male cat of mine) jumps on the railing and waits for me to kiss his big head. He won't let me leave until he gets his dose of head-kisses. He loves the goatee. I can't blame him. He probably wouldn't recognize me if I shaved it. On the way to work, I try to find some semblance of inspiration on morning radio. Yeah, good luck. So at about 6:25 or so, I walk in and unlock the shop. Make the coffee and get things ready to go for the day. Heaven forbid the guys have to wait for coffee or wait for something to be unlocked. Bigger grumps than me. I mean it. At quarter of 7, I head upstairs into the office and enjoy the morning meeting, when we are all supposed to plan out what is happening for the day. Several times, Brad (the owner) has asked me to participate more. And I reply, with gobs of respect (I really do like both him and the job) that the meetings are almost always useless. By the time I walk downstairs and out to my shop, everything is screwed anyway. The best-laid plans are fucked, so imagine the plans made by the guys I work with!!!! Not even close to best-laid. Anyway, that sets the tone for the day, and I break the news of all the hot jobs to my guys, which is currently only 2...down from 7. Seems this town is suffering a shortage of fabricators who meet these "strict" criteria: 1) Be a certified welder 2) Be able to read blueprints 3) Have a valid driver's license 4) Be able to pass a drug test. Odd. For the money this industry offers, people can't step up. So we go through the day, trying to work on contract jobs...jobs that we won the bid on and are on a timetable to finish. But, the office folks love to walk on down and derail the soul train. We got the huge shop with the blaring jams all to ourselves, and if left to our own devices we would actually get work done. But about a third of every day is spend trying to put aside one job to interject another. Outstanding. But whenever the day begins to get stinky, I look outside...our shop is completely open on one side and it faces Pike's Peak. So sweet. Everything comes down a notch and my shoulders actually relax and drop down below my head. It's weird. You should see it. I wish it happened all day at work. Then I go home when the work is done. Should be 3:30, but it's almost never before 4. And sometime Saturdays. And once in a blue moon, a Sunday. The things you do for love.
OK, so that's the boring scoop of my day-job. Well, not so boring. I figure, there's only about 10 of you that ever drop by, so you must be intersted in something, and that rocks. Right back atcha. I gotta go fill out some forwarded questionnaire and then hit the hay. Who starts these things and why do I like them so?!?!
Night everyone. Sleep tight, and bite the bedbugs back. They will stop coming by at night. I promise.
-Rich
So, I went out for my nightly (for the most part) run, and decided that I should drive out to the Garden of the Gods instead of hitting the asphalt in the neighborhood. Terrific trails to get lost in. So I did. About an hour. Totally beat and exhausted and regretting it and loving it at the same time. So I climbed up the bumper and laid down on the hood, watching the daytime go to sleep. Then, and this was a splendid thing, a thunderstorm rolled in from the North. And there was sunset, still trickling in from the West, the moon trying to get out from behind the clouds, and lightning. I love it. Made the rest of the humdrum seem better. Worth it.
So let me run you through an average day in the life. 5:27 the alarm rings and by then, a cat has usually been a pest enough to wake me anyway. So I beg the alarm clock to make the next 7 minutes of snooze-time seem like an hour. Never works. But I always ask. I roll out of bed and sometimes step on another cat. Probably Biscuit, who won't sleep on the bed, but will sleep right next to it on the floor. Nice. I turn on the news and weather channel, and make sure to seee my local on the 8's so I know just how rough the day will be to me. I make something for breakfast and try to enjoy it, eyeing the clock every couple minutes. After donning my work clothes, I grab both my work cell and my personal cell and head downstairs. Aidan (the giant male cat of mine) jumps on the railing and waits for me to kiss his big head. He won't let me leave until he gets his dose of head-kisses. He loves the goatee. I can't blame him. He probably wouldn't recognize me if I shaved it. On the way to work, I try to find some semblance of inspiration on morning radio. Yeah, good luck. So at about 6:25 or so, I walk in and unlock the shop. Make the coffee and get things ready to go for the day. Heaven forbid the guys have to wait for coffee or wait for something to be unlocked. Bigger grumps than me. I mean it. At quarter of 7, I head upstairs into the office and enjoy the morning meeting, when we are all supposed to plan out what is happening for the day. Several times, Brad (the owner) has asked me to participate more. And I reply, with gobs of respect (I really do like both him and the job) that the meetings are almost always useless. By the time I walk downstairs and out to my shop, everything is screwed anyway. The best-laid plans are fucked, so imagine the plans made by the guys I work with!!!! Not even close to best-laid. Anyway, that sets the tone for the day, and I break the news of all the hot jobs to my guys, which is currently only 2...down from 7. Seems this town is suffering a shortage of fabricators who meet these "strict" criteria: 1) Be a certified welder 2) Be able to read blueprints 3) Have a valid driver's license 4) Be able to pass a drug test. Odd. For the money this industry offers, people can't step up. So we go through the day, trying to work on contract jobs...jobs that we won the bid on and are on a timetable to finish. But, the office folks love to walk on down and derail the soul train. We got the huge shop with the blaring jams all to ourselves, and if left to our own devices we would actually get work done. But about a third of every day is spend trying to put aside one job to interject another. Outstanding. But whenever the day begins to get stinky, I look outside...our shop is completely open on one side and it faces Pike's Peak. So sweet. Everything comes down a notch and my shoulders actually relax and drop down below my head. It's weird. You should see it. I wish it happened all day at work. Then I go home when the work is done. Should be 3:30, but it's almost never before 4. And sometime Saturdays. And once in a blue moon, a Sunday. The things you do for love.
OK, so that's the boring scoop of my day-job. Well, not so boring. I figure, there's only about 10 of you that ever drop by, so you must be intersted in something, and that rocks. Right back atcha. I gotta go fill out some forwarded questionnaire and then hit the hay. Who starts these things and why do I like them so?!?!
Night everyone. Sleep tight, and bite the bedbugs back. They will stop coming by at night. I promise.
-Rich
posted by Rich at 8/24/2004 10:52:00 PM
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