Neanderpundit

I spend all day talking on the phone. I talk on the phone to customers, many of which are not too horribly bright. It’s trying under the best of circumstances.

I hate to talk on the phone at home. Text me or mail me but please, don’t call. If I pick up the phone at home I want it to be because someone died. Used to be just the phone calls in the middle of the night bugged me- now it’s just about anything drives me nuts. I have shit to do. Don’t call me.

The Optometrist stopped by with a new (Well, to him) Police INterceptor Harley- in such wonderful shape it almost defies description. Sad to say (For him) it’s a present for his son in law from his daughter. A stupendously beautiful bike.

This afternoon I will be working away at the tree some more, the Ogwife and Oglet enlisted to help, and several other victims volunteers possibly showing to assist as well.