Short break from the story...

Couple of interesting things, tonight.

Number one, the complex manager's husband... not so bright about computer things. He's smart enough to set up a wireless network but not smart enough to secure it (theirs is the connection I've been sponging off of.) He caught me tonight and warned me not to "network in" to the internet connection. I thought he was telling me my days of free internet were over.

Nope, he was telling me that he didn't mind me borrowing the internet, but I shouldn't connect to his network to do it.

Wha?

Turns out I'd forgotten to change the fileshare settings on a couple of folders relating to the ringtones I've made for my phone and Farmmom's. He got into those folders, and decided that because he could do that, my computer was "unsecure."

Technically, he was right, but not for the reason he thought.

See... you can't get onto a wireless internet connection without connecting to the network its on. BUT... my stuff was "unsecure" because I had left the sharing properties wide open on it.

Ahh well his lack of computer savvy is my gain. When I got inside I changed the sharing protocols and my computer informed me that there was a user currently viewing those folders... so I shut him off. See what he makes of that.

He'll probably decide I'm a hacker, or something. Pfft, if I was, I'd crack into one of the two other wireless networks in the building. They've got better signal strength. But THEIR owners are smart enough to secure their networks.

And two... I got a borrowed DVD player today whilst I was in the hometown for my Nephew's birthday party.

One problem. My TV is dead.

It turns on, but it won't even change the quality of the static when you fiddle with the connections to the DVD player.

That sucks.

When things go wrong... Part II

Boss Lady was in trouble. Either the sky was falling and we were all about to die, or I was going to kick her butt for not answering the radio after something like that.

I ran for my car, slamming it into gear before the door closed. Pedal to the floor, I flipped a u-ie and headed North.

I kept calling on the radio, pausing to listen for any response. I had to lay the handheld down in my lap occasionally to honk the horn and blow my purloined air horn as I came up on workers.

As I got closer to where the traffic line should be, I slowed.

I may have to hit the ditch, and I don’t want to do that going too fast… there’s still at least a two inch drop on this side, and the ditch is steep here. Don’t want to roll my car.

My best bet is they ran into trouble going by the paver, maybe had to stop the cop and let traffic by. That’s down in the hole, would explain the lack of a response on the radio.

I reached the hill before the hole, and no sign of traffic yet. Now I’m really worried. They should have been passing me by now. The fact that they weren’t, meant that the traffic line was stopped. We don’t ever stop a traffic line, unless something even more dangerous than trying to take two miles worth of traffic from forty five to a stop is up ahead.

I popped over the hill going slow enough to slam on my brakes and keep from hitting anyone that might be in the road, which means not very fast at all. Twenty, tops.

Still fast enough for anyone who might intentionally jump in front of my car, true, but slow enough I’ve got reaction time if I need it.

“Shit.”

I backed up to the top of the hill, snagged the handheld and started barking orders.

“South end, I know you have a cell phone, call 911, tell them we’ve got a major accident here, at least six cars, one state patrol on scene already, we’re gonna need ambulances.”

“What’s going on? Why do I have to call?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and DIAL 911!”

“Ok, ok, jeez!”

Back down the hill, slowly. This side of things was relatively clear, they didn’t get this far. Below me though, it was a mess.

There’s a ravine with a bridge over it at the bottom of the hole, the paver was coming up on the bridge, maybe two loads of concrete from framing the end and walking the paver up past the bridge.

Don't think they're gonna get that done today...

Somehow there was a pileup right by the paver. I could see the pilot car knocked into the dead lane in front of the big concrete laying machine, driver’s side crunched against one of the dump trucks that hauled the concrete.

Shit. Gerald's in there.

The pilot car driver that day was a nice old man, too old to stand out there all day, but good with traffic. He always gave me hugs, when I gave him a break.

Four more cars mashed together, pointing different directions. Must have rebounded off the guardrail on the bridge.

A string of crunched cars went up the hill, now that I had a second to look, a couple of them shoved half-off the twelve inch drop off the slab.

There was enough battered metal to make a junkyard dog move in and set up house down there, and it was obvious that there were going to be people hurt. A couple of people were out of their vehicles and moving around, already.

From there, it was hard to tell just what else was involved, except for one vehicle. A dark green pickup sat squarely in the middle of the freshly poured concrete, tires sunken. As I got closer I could see that it had several large dents towards the front.

I hopped out of my car, and spotted my supervisor off to one side yelling at the paving supervisor. I headed over there at a dead run. Not only does she need to know that the 911 call is in progress, but she needs to call the office, and she needs to get away from the paving supervisor before she says something dumb like…

“You asshole, there are people injured and you want to get a loader down here to pull the truck that caused all of this crap out???”

Too late. Ok, so I agreed with her, he was an asshole.

“Boss Lady!”

“And another thing you sorry..”

“BOSS LADY!”

“WHAT?!?” She turned on me and yelled in my face.

“South end is calling 911 with all the information I had. I’ll get things organized here while you call the office. I got the south end covered on lead-ins, but we’re going to need more ambulances than they have south of us. Did Owner Lady ever finalize that emergency detour plan? I think we’re going to need it.” I chose my words carefully. She had to play the politics game with this guy, and while he’d accept her cussing him out, under the circumstances, if I undermined her in front of him, it’d make her job a lot harder.

The fact that it yanked her back from the emotional brink and got her brain working again is just a bonus.

I couldn’t blame her, if I’d seen it happen I’d have been a wreck too. So would most of our male supervisors.

She took a breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Boss Lady had a grip on herself.

“Good. Explain to him why he can’t pull that pickup out.” She motioned towards the paving supervisor.

“Oh sure, leave me with the fun part.” This got a small smile.

She jogged back to her truck, maneuvered her way around, and headed back up the hill. She really needed to go north, to lead in any emergency personnel from that end, but she couldn’t get there from here. She’d have to detour around on county roads, which would mean some time lost. She’d spend it making phone calls, since she had a booster in the truck. 911 again with better information, the office to inform the big boss and get her down here, the state engineer for the site, and the Department of Transportation office to see if we could shut down the highway between the two towns. The county commissioners office to get permission to detour traffic around, at least to clear people out, and in case they wouldn’t close the road. Flaggers, we’d need all the extra hands we could get. The supervisor for the main contractor on site.

I ignored the paving supervisor. He was being an asshole, but the reality of the situation would sink in soon enough, and he’d figure out exactly why he couldn’t move that truck. His freshly poured concrete had just, I suspected, become a crime scene.

I started walking down towards the wreckage, even though that was the last place I wanted to go. I had to inform the officer that he had help on the way, and then I had to get back south and organize my flaggers. I had a thought and reversed direction, popping the trunk on my car, grabbing my first aid kit and a couple of Wal-Mart sacks. I’d just bought a couple of t-shirts and several 3-packs of bandannas the day before, and hadn’t gotten them out of the trunk yet. Not much, but maybe it would help.

I like to keep bandannas on hand, they’re handy when it’s hot, soak one down in your cooler and wrap it around your neck, cool ya right off. Of course, there are other things that they’re useful for, too. Like forming a pressure bandage.

The paving supervisor was following me, and as I once again headed for the twisted pile of metal that used to be several cars, he grabbed my arm.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT THAT PICKUP?!?”

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at him, giving him the kind of glare I usually reserve for jumpy truckers or equipment operators that refused to listen to me.

“Look around. There’s been a major fucking wreck. And if I’m not mistaken, you really should be checking on your boys instead of harassing me. You know, doing your JOB?? If you have a first aid kit somewhere around here, get it, and help out. Either way, you need to get your fucking hands off me and stop being an asshole. Unless you want me to put it in my report that workers were endangered because you were more worried about production than people's lives.”

I’m not the supervisor. I don’t have to play politics with this man.

I jerked my arm out of his grip and started walking, not waiting to see the moment when the full impact of this thing hit him. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

When I got closer to the wreckage, I looked for the trooper. He was bent over, three cars in, his hands busy with something I couldn’t see, the woman in the seat nearest him was sobbing and shaking her head. Shit.

I shoved reaction back, time to get freaked out later. Right then I had a job to do.

I reached the trooper, taking note of things as I went through. Blue four door, man, woman, two kids in the back seat. Man was bleeding down his face, looked like he probably broke his nose. Woman, holding her stomach and trying to curl around it, the seatbelt keeping her from it. Kids, strapped in car seats, crying, scared, but no obvious wounds. Red two door, high school age kid, unconscious or dead, the front end of his car all but gone. The engine must have been in his lap. Thoughts flickered through my head, none of them sticking around for very long. There was just too much to take in.

“Sir.”

The officer looked over his shoulder at me, and I saw he was trying to jerk open the door. I didn’t think he’d have much luck. The side of the car might as well have been one solid piece of metal, the body was so deformed there was no way that door was opening.

“I have one small first aid kit, two t-shirts, a bunch of bandannas, and a plastic sack.” I offered the items to him.

“I need a pair of hands, go check everyone…”

“No, sir.”

“What? I’m telling you I need…”

“Sir, I am not trained in CPR, first aid, or removing damaged car parts. I am trained in handling traffic control. I have to get out of this hole and get back in contact with the rest of my flaggers. I have to go to the south end and lead the ambulances here in a safe manner.”

“The ambulances will find their own way, now you go…”

“No, sir. They won’t. Because I’m not having more people hurt or killed today. There are still men working up there. The faster I get out of here the faster you get help down here.” I shook the first aid kit and bag at him, looking him steadily in the eye.

I felt like a shit leaving all those people, and Gerald, when I might have been able to help… but my responsibilities were elsewhere.

“You’re a cold bitch, you know that?”

“Yes sir. Take the stuff.”

I jogged back to my car, headed up to the top of the hill, listened for radio chatter once I got there. Nothing, they must have taken my warning seriously for once. Or, Boss Lady yelled at them again when she could hear them again.

“South end, what’s the story on those ambulances?”

“On their way. Folks are getting antsy down here.”

“Nothing I can do for them. I’m on my way to lead the ambulances in. Tell traffic there’s a big wreck, they can sit tight, or turn around and go back to town once the ambulances are through, but NO ONE moves until I get my ambulances, got it? Make sure everyone you can reach is in their vehicles.”

“Well I did wave them in but there are some back there a ways that aren’t looking at me.”

“Then RUN. Grab a trucker and have him start yelling on the CB.”

“But..”

“No buts, welcome to the fun part of the job. As long as you’ve explained things to the first person in line they’ll stay still. If they don’t I’m on my way out and I’ll deal with them down here.”

“No, my first guy is pretty reasonable, it’s a few cars back that are getting pissy.”

“Ask them if they want to be responsible for someone’s loved one dying. That usually shuts them up. Coming up on you now.”

I took the lane change in front of the line of traffic and kept heading south for a mile or so, watching for the telltale flashing red and blues, and laying on the horn to get people out of the way. We’d been holding long enough that we had two and a half, maybe three miles worth of traffic stacked up.

I didn’t dare drive any further, I couldn’t remember what time it had been when I came on the accident, the ambulances could be there any second. I found a small gap in traffic and whipped into it, backing back out into the south bound lane and watching my rear view.

“Miss? What’s taking so long?”

“Sir, I need you to get back into your vehicle and stay there. We’ve got emergency services coming. Once they’re by you can turn around and go back to town or you can stay here and wait, but we’ve had an accident in the middle of the site, and I have no idea how long it will be. Do me a favor and tell anyone between you and your car that they need to stay in their vehicles and be patient.”

“Ok, miss, but… is there anything I can do to help?”

“Other than stay in your car, unless you have medical training, no sir. If you have a CB you can start telling people what’s going on. Now, get out of the way please.”

I was trying to be polite, the guy was concerned, not pissed off, not causing any problems on purpose, but I had problems of my own and I needed him out of the way.

I’d kept my eyes on my rear view and spotted the first glimmer that might be red and blues. I gripped the steering wheel with both hands while my pulse shot up, checked ahead of me to make sure it was clear, and waited until I could clearly see the ambulances before I accelerated smoothly and carefully. I set my own pace and waited 'till the ambulances matched me, watching in the mirror, and took them up to forty miles an hour. Everyone was in their vehicles, and the south end flagger was walking back towards the front of the line. I honked the horn and he turned to look before he dodged in between two trucks.

Ambulances don’t do high speed lane changes well. At least not in the distances that we had to work with. I kept them at forty till we got around traffic and into the live lane. I had enough room to get them around and into the zone without rocking them too badly at that speed. Then I gradually increased my speed. We had four miles to go before we got to the accident, and every second counts in those situations.

The ambulance right behind me got the hint after I’d laid on the horn going by one group of workers, and flipped on the siren. Good, now everyone will hear us coming.

I started reducing speed about a half a mile before the hole, pulling them back from sixty five down to forty, thirty. The driver behind me was on the ball, he never got too close.

I peeled off once I got them over the top of the hill, I’d need my car, and it wouldn’t be very smart to let it get boxed in by the ambulances. I followed them down.

“Yo!” I yelled as they bailed out, grabbing bags and equipment. “What else have we got coming?”

“The county boys, rural fire, another ambulance is coming from Walsh but it will be a while before they get here.”

“Got it, I’ll get ‘em here.”

I backed back to the driveway I’d parked in earlier, backing in. It was pure chance that I looked to my right when I did, and saw the car in the ravine, laid over on it’s top.

Shit.

I swallowed and headed back for the south end. Either they’d noticed it, or they hadn’t, but I had a lot of people that were going to be running hot coming, and I had to get them through safely.

“Farmgirl, you copy?” Boss Lady’s voice was steady again over the radio.

“10-4”

“You got those ambulances yet?”

“Two ambulances on site, I’m headed south to get the rest of the circus. One more ambulance reported as on the way from Walsh, Rural Fire, and everyone else in the county who has a badge or enough clout not to get kicked out, apparently.”

“Good, we’ve got ambulances coming from up north, too. We should have Owner Lady here soon, and I’ll leave her the north end, and be down in the hole.”

“10-4 Boss Lady. You want me to organize this end? Are we detouring or just turning them around if we can?”

“Yes, and for the moment we’re turning them around if we can. If the semis insist, send them up to 116 and back over into Kansas, once we get all the emergency people in here. Make sure the flaggers know what’s going on there.”

“10-4 Boss Lady, I got it covered.”

I was almost to the south end, I pulled up to the flagger, verified that he’d heard the conversation, and headed on back to the same spot to wait again.

The guy from earlier was out of his car again, wandering among the traffic line and talking to people. When he saw me he ran up to my window.

“I know, you need me in my vehicle, but there are four or five people with at least CPR training here, do you need them?”

Wow. I was surprised at the guys initiative, and impressed that he’d gone around asking everyone. There were bound to be some folks that were ready to start throwing punches at Traffic Control by now.

“I don’t know, I’ll ask the paramedics when I get back down there. For now, once I get gone, have them all pull their cars into the ditch and gather in one spot. If they don’t need them its no harm no foul, but if they do then they’re going to have to ride in with me.”

“Ok, I’ll go over on the other side of all these cars and start telling them.”

“Be careful, some bright boy might try coming up that shoulder. Here.”

I rummaged in the empty water and soda bottles in my backseat floorboard for a moment, and came up with my extra vest.

“If I don’t get that back from you before you leave, give it to the flagger up there, ok? At least you’re more visible now.”

“Sure, thanks.”

The guy sounded dubious, but I didn’t want him getting smacked while he was trying to help out.

Just then I saw the red and blues coming, and I went for another ride. The rural fire truck was followed by two of the Sheriff’s pickups, and a lone city police car.

“Farmgirl, you got a copy?”

“10-4” It was the south end flagger.

“I have Walsh Ambulance here, they want to know whether they’re going to have to wait on you or not.”

I thought for a second before I replied.

“Tell them to turn on every flashing light and loud noise they have, and watch out for our workers, and catch up with me. If they’re unsafe coming through, I’ll deal with them when its all over and done with.”

I knew the driver would be able to hear the radio, and the growl in my voice, and while it may not have intimidated him much, it did warn him that he needed to behave.

They did catch up by the time we got to the hole, and they did leave their siren on all the way in. Good boys.

I dove out of the way of the ambulances, and jumped out of my car to find a paramedic, or EMT.

Or whatever the hell training and title they’re giving those boys these days.

I caught one on his way to his ambulance for something, and matched stride with him.

“I’ve got four, five people on the south end that say they’ve got at least CPR training. You want ‘em?”

“Shit yes, we need all the hands we can get.”

“I’ll get ‘em here”

“We don’t need any more vehicles down here…” The guy looked at me severely.

“Let me handle traffic, bubbah, you just play with your doctor toys.” I grinned at him and he grinned back. I knew him, we'd gone to the same high school, even though he was a couple years ahead of me.

“Oh, there’s a car in the ravine, upside down. You can’t see it from the bridge, I don’t think.”

“No, you can’t. I saw it on the way in, but we can’t get to it yet.” His expression was bleak, now. He didn't think that there would be anyone left to save by the time they got down there, if there was anyone left alive in the first place.

“Gotcha.”

He jumped into the back of the ambulance and I took off for my car, trying to figure out how I was going to fit six or more people in a five seater car.

When things go wrong....

I rolled on site about 5:45, groggy and still trying to remember why in the hell I’d ever chosen this gawdawful hour of the morning to be out and about.

Oh yeah, work. Paycheck. Being the last line of defense between Joe Blow, driver without a clue, and.. well… himself, mostly.

The overabundance of that particular shade of orange used in road construction reminded me, and woke me up a little.

Strange that the color of orange found pretty much only in road construction seems to act as a soporific on so many people—it always wakes me up.

Maybe because I know that it’s more than just my ass on the line out there.

It was a typical day to start with, the supervisor had me running breaks so I was all over the place all day, fifteen minutes here, thirty there, ten in my car with the spiffy magnetic blinky light on top.

The bonus is, I get to shoot the bull with nearly the whole crew of workers while I’m at it. That’s always fun.

I was just finishing up the lunch breaks, doing the paver last, so that I could give Ron a longer break, since he had one of the crappier jobs that day.

The pave crew loves me. I don’t hesitate a second to reach out and grab one of them by the back of the shirt and jerk him out of the way if he’s not paying enough attention. I learned long ago not to even try yelling. With that much noise, there’s no use.

That’s also why there isn’t a radio on the paver… you hear about one word in four, and look really silly standing there with a walkie-talkie pressed to your ear, the other hand over your other ear, all the while trying to hold a five foot stick with a big metal sign on one end, and keep it from falling into the fresh concrete.

Besides, for a few more hours at least, the paver would be in the hole-of-no-reception, the Bermuda Triangle of radio signals. You could pick up a signal, and even understand the message, if the other person were close enough. But, at that distance, you can shout almost as effectively.

I also trade dirty jokes and innuendos with the pave crew. I’m one of the few females on site who will give them just as much shit as they give me.

“Hey, Twiggy, what’s happening?” Steve walked up to me while I was looking for traffic, trying to startle me. It was a routine game between us, we’d see who could surprise the other one.

It kept both of us on our toes. Sometimes he even managed to get me.

“Not much, Steve-o, how’s your day?”

“Fair-to-middlin. Say, you decided to take me up on my offer yet?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, somehow managing to come off both lecherous, and a clown.

“You decided to drop twenty pounds, ten years, and your wife yet?” I had to shout to be heard over the noise, and the crew nearest us started laughing and slapping Steve on the shoulder.

Me? They winked at me, tossing off their own joking offers to buy me a drink, a car, a hotel room. I just rolled my eyes and chuckled. Then I told them I was saving myself for marriage, and got three proposals on the spot. I told you it’s fun to B.S. with the guys! Good for the ego, too.

About then Ron came back from his break. I had let him sit in my car to eat his lunch, since there was a driveway handy to where the paver was and I was able to park without being in the nearby ravine or in the way of traffic. Plus, I didn’t want him driving my car.

“No, boys, she’s in love with me, she just doesn’t know it yet.” Ron made a motion as if to put his sweaty, faintly flabby arm around my shoulders, and I dodged.

“In your dreams. Get back to work before I kick your ass or file a sexual harassment claim.” My voice was flat and as cold as I could make it in 98 degree weather.

The crew had all gone quiet and watchful when Ron came back. They’d heard through the site grapevine that he didn’t seem to be taking “not only no, but HELL no” for an answer from me, and he put off his persistence to the same kind of joking that I did with the rest of the guys.

Difference is, they didn’t touch me, except rarely to shove gently at my shoulder when they forgot that I really don’t own my own pair of testicles. Ron had a serious problem with the concept of personal space.

“Back to work.”

I walked back over to my car, pausing to point one toe and hike up the leg of my hideous yellow class-3 high visibility pants, with two stripes of two inch retro reflective tape running around the ankles, at one of the passing supervisors. I tell you, throw in a vest that’s four sizes too big on me no matter what size the tag says, in the same color yellow, with two inch retro striping down the chest and around the abdomen, a bright orange hard hat, and it just doesn’t get much sexier. No, really. It’s downright traffic stopping.

“HEY! EVERYONE SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE!!” The radio that I’d left in my car screamed to life as I crested the hill, obviously one of the base units in either the pilot car or the supervisor’s truck, since it stepped all over anyone else who was talking.

I kept shut up. When a supervisor or a driver uses that tone, something is going wrong, and there’s no telling if its something stupid or if Murphy has come to remind us all of his Law.

“Just got a call,” Now that she wasn’t yelling, I recognized the voice of the supervisor. “We’ve got State Patrol coming hot, hit and run up north, vehicle description: Dark green pickup, unknown plate. Probably a largish dent somewhere near the front. Keep an eye out, hold all traffic North End till I get the Hi-Po led through. Pilot car, what’s your 20?” When Bad Things Happen, we always revert to absolutely proper radio protocol. Well, our company protocols anyway. Probably a mish mash of every protocol known to man, but they work for us. At least they keep easily misunderstood words out of it for the most part.

“Traffic is south bound, passing the plant now.”

“Shit. Farmgirl, you copy?”

I had a moment to think, don’t cuss on the radio… while the Boss Lady’s message came through to me.

“10-4”

“You anywhere near the paver recently?”

“Yep, and I know what you’re thinking.. I think there’s room to squeak ‘em by if I move a couple of drums, I’ll jump on that now.”

“If we’ve got a wide load that bridge will be a problem.”

“If we’ve got a load that wide we’ve got bigger problems than the bridge. And if it looks too tight, you can always pull the Hi-Po over into Bantry’s driveway.”

“You’re right. All right, you move those drums and then snag an air horn and start warning workers.. you won’t get to all of them, but some is better than none.”

“10-4 Boss Lady, I’m on it.”

“Pilot car, what’s your last?”

I half listened to the description of the last two vehicles in the line, while I headed back towards the hole.

I hauled ass back to where I was, and tweaked off the paving supervisor by squeezing his margin of safety to close to nil, I told him we had emergency services coming through, had to have the room, he grumbled, and asked if his boys could move them back out when the noisy bastards got through. Why not? Less work for me.

I snagged one of our refillable air horns, made sure it was charged, and started hauling ass southwards. Nothing up north but the concrete trucks, and they were usually good about looking, but we had four separate crews out on the slab, and they tended to trust in the supernatural abilities of Traffic Control to put a Vulcan Mind-Meld on every person in a traffic line just a wee bit more than I’m comfortable with.

Blow the horn out the window, shout “Hi-Po, running hot, watch your ass!” get a nod, repeat.

I got two crews warned before an orange truck, followed so closely by a silver Colorado State Patrol rig with all the bells and whistles going that they might have been tied together, popped up ahead of me. Thankfully, I was far enough south that I could dodge into the dead lane, stop, and let them by, without damaging the concrete.

My little blue Malibu rocked on its suspension as I did a close approximation of a high-speed lane change, mentally thanking my ex-cop parents for teaching me things like that instead of telling me to go play with my dolls, and pulled as far away from the live lane as I could get.

Guess those other two crews don’t really need my warning now.

“You want a tail, Boss Lady?” I spoke loudly and clearly into the radio, knowing that my supervisor would be high on an adrenaline rush, and with the added noise of the sirens and the wind in the rolled-down windows, it becomes very important to make sure that nothing is garbled.

“No, head south and check the drums, I think I nicked a couple going by the blade.” I had to listen closely to distinguish the words from the rush of wind and the double-whammy of the siren, over the radio and going by.

“10-4.”

My own adrenaline was up, and I drove a little too fast to check the drums, and set the ones she’d popped back on their bases. I retrieved the lightweight plastic barrels from their respective resting places in the ditch on the dead lane side, and set them back on the rubber bases with a hollow plastic popping noise.

I was just about to continue with the breaks when…

“SHIT!”

Don’t cuss on the radio, Boss Lady…

“Boss Lady, you got a copy?”

“What’s going on?”

“What the hell was that all about?”

The radio chattered to life, inconsequential questions, stupid people cluttering up my radio when I needed to talk. I was the only one mobile and free on site, I needed to know what was going on and I couldn't find out while they were yamering.

I caught a free second and jumped on it, “SHUT UP ALL OF YOU! Stay off the radio unless you have something relating to traffic to say. Boss Lady, you need me?”

Silence.

My adrenaline started pumping again, and I keyed up again, holding the mic button for a second before speaking.

“Boss Lady, do you need me?”

Silence again.

Double Shit.

Work in Progress

So, I'm sitting here working on the story of the road construction accident, which I'm making pretty hairy, and I take a pause to go back and read what I've got, check my tenses, etc. I have a bad habit of changing tenses from past to present when I'm writing something "exciting" so to speak, so I have to go back and check every once in a while.

Then I look at my page count. Times New Roman 12pt font, single spaced. Eleven pages so far.

And I'm not even half done, yet.

I may give this one to you guys in chapters, rather than dump the whole thing on you at once.

I'll see if I can't find a place to put a chapter break and do final revisions and post the first bit tonight.

Ahh.

Getting settled in, getting things organized, re-arranged, and stirred to my satisfaction.

One thing to mar the joy of the new apartment... I need a vacuum. Its something that I didn't pick up before hand, and I was trying to avoid it until I got a job, but I didn't count on having this much styrofoam about.

I got new lamps, and a new kitchen island thing to put the microwave on. The result? My living room carpet is covered in tiny pieces of styrofoam. Looks really bad. So, either I'll get motivated and stay frugal and pick them all up by hand or I'll get lazy and go buy a vacuum. Probably the first one, I can ask for a vacuum for my birthday, its coming up soon anyway.

Other than that, things are going good.

Oh, and Farmdad insisted that I post a correction.

He says I'm not stealing internet, I'm borrowing bandwidth.

I think I'm stealing internet, but hey....

Ahh the wonders....

Of an unsecured wireless network. Not the world's strongest signal but hey, its better than nothing at all till I can get my internet hooked up right? Right.

Got everything moved, although for a second there I was beginning to worry that we wouldn't. Major furniture is in place and I'm working on unpacking kitchen stuff. Coffee mugs are washed and in the dish drainer as I write this, they'll dry soon enough and I'll put them away, and start on the dishes and bowls. In between I'll unpack other things.

I'm seriously considering walking around naked, later. Just because I can.

Get at least the dishes put away, and get the bathroom cleaned and the bed made, and I may call it a night. Or I may still be wound up and keep going.

The Farm Parents and Mamaw went home, Farmdad and Mamaw will be back tomorrow, bringing the all-important coffee maker with them. We forgot it. Its a miracle that I didn't forget more stuff, with a move as crazy as this one.

Back to unpacking, I have a lot to do.

No more Road Construction

Yesterday was my last day. Of course, that means that everything annoyed me even more, but I survived it!

Now I'm having my coffee and rounding up the strong backs and weak minds to help with the move. I've got one of my guy friends, talked to a couple that have other things that they *have* to do, and in a few minutes I'll call another one that already agreed to help out.

Still some packing to do (dishes, kitchen stuff, etc) but the biggest thing is the furniture, digging it out and loading it, and then unloading it.

So, this may be my last post for a while. Farmmom thinks there's bound to be someone there with an unsecured wireless connection so I won't lose all internetz when I move, but I don't know for sure.

If you don't hear from me, there's no internetz. If you do, I'm stealing internetz.

But I'm working on the construction post, anway.