Wednesday, February 21, 2001

 

10:04 a.m. I'm actually on the phone, on hold -- changing my dentist's appointment. There is music. I could hang up, you know. Hang right up and be gone forever. They'd never be able to catch up with me. I'd have a head start ... ooop ... they're back ...

Ugh. They wanted me to come in this morning. That's what I get for being efficient -- no way. I'm all comfy and settled, with the work, cough, of the day arrayed and begun. So, no. Friday is the new d-day -- Friday at 9 a.m.

Watch this space tomorrow night as I stay up all night long, just for the fun of it. The thing is (I know, I know) that I can run, but I can't hide. There would be a trail of broken teeth and bits of filling to give me away.

Oh well --

1:59 a.m. And then the day heated up and I got busy and thoroughly enjoyed my respite from the dentist. Later in the afternoon, at around 3:30 or so, there came that unmistakable sound that, if you've heard it once, you're forever imprinted -- the sound of a fire siren going beep beep and stopping right in front of your house.

It's the way the siren is suddenly choked off in mid-wail that tells you you'd better check your premises and your neighbors for smoke. Today, it was next door ... they're doing construction and they smelled gas and they did the safe and smart thing and called the fire department.

The truck in the photo was the smaller of two of them and I'll probably post the bigger one tomorrow if nothing else exciting comes up. I also got a nice shot of two firemen (but of course) and I'm saving that for a rainy day, too.

So. I really can't talk about the filing that I got done today because it's truly too boring. I'm proud that I got so much done, but not proud of the fact that I went digging around in the laundry and located a mini travel iron that doesn't heat up too much and which is just perfect for ironing all those crumpled up receipts and scrunched up market register ribbons.

Yes, I ironed paper today. And of course I ran back into the office and checked the iron, which was standing by the flimsy tissue-thin piles of credit-card slips when I was in the kitchen getting some milk when I heard the damped down cry of the fire engines out front. For all I knew, the place was ablaze and I was the last person to know.

It would certainly be another, quicker answer to the filing problem, however.