Saturday, November 5th, 2011
It has been said that anticipation is the greatest joy. The knowing that something is coming can be a wonderful feeling, like Christmas. When we were little, and arguably some of us to this day, we counted the days until Christmas when we would get all of these new toys. I'll admit that the socks and underwear were not much of a thrill back then, but I've come to appreciate them more as I've aged, I just don't enjoy the same amount of anticipation for a 3 pack of briefs as I did for that BB gun so long ago. Much of the day today was spent waiting for that special event: a load to somewhere.
Last night, after putting my stuff into the truck and driving to a convenient truck stop, I messaged my dispatcher (like 9-1-1, only slower!) to set my PTA for 0600 on the 5th. Apologies again for the alphabet soup, but PTA stands for Projected Time of Availability. I hit the hay, and get a good night's sleep. Knowing that it would be Saturday today, I set my alarm for 0600, fully expecting to go back to sleep. Checking the Quallcomm, there was no pre-plan on me at 0600, so my calculation proved correct. So of course I went back to sleep. Anybody in their right mind would sleep in on a Saturday.
Rolling out of bed at 0800, there is still no plan, so I go in for a thrifty breakfast. Not the best food ever, but enough for a few hours. Then the waiting started. Filling the time. Ordinarily amusing distractions become mundane within a matter of a couple of hours. There's only so many things you may want to look at on the internet. So many inane videos one can take before you realize that your eyes have glazed over and you're starting to drool. (seriously, I've caught myself). Even books seemed incomprehensible to me at this stage. Time to go for a walk.
The air is a brisk 41 degrees, partly cloudy, and calm. Strolling across the acre or four of asphalt, I take in the sights. A driver out walking his dog. Sparrows eating crumbs of some unidentified sandwich. Clouds crystallizing and coalescing in the frigid atmosphere. Taking a moment to appreciate the design of the parking lot and the water catchment system. A willow tree across the road, attempting to reclaim part of the pavement for mother nature. Sparrows flitting about and tweeting. That dog again, taking a dump right by the driver's entrance. The owner hurrying away just in case someone saw him. Steam from the fresh dookie. Yep. A virtual wonderland of the senses.
Leaving the property, I cross the street. It is not a busy street, often times lonely, save for a car speeding off to the intersection, then on to the highway. I take a side street along what appears to be an abandoned power line. The glass insulators are still there, strung up by some braided steel cable. One can see where they clipped the lines, and stately telephone poles lie discarded in the ditch below. Turns out that they are quite fun to walk on and practice balancing. A few of them even had some see-saw action going on, to further test my dexterity. Hopping from curb, to pole to pole, I was able to play the “don't touch the ground” game. Walking as far as you could without setting foot on the level earth. I still play this game with railroad tracks when I get the chance. This time, however, there was a fun twist to it. Two of the poles in the ditch were of the metallic variety. Hollow and angular, probably a dodecagon were I to hazard a guess. As I pace up and down the length, there are certain spots that resonate with that tinny metallic sound; an almost watery sound like the kind you get when you flick the side of your cheeks, then open your mouth as you do so. (it's cool, I promise). There's plenty of time to take measured steps up and down the metal poles, because who knew when I could do THIS again.
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