When we were informed fuel would arrive, it didn’t. We’re still waiting while gas tankers stop by and randomly deliver a few gallons here and there. Panic-stricken motorists drive several miles on interstates following those tankers, wasting away their one-eighth tank, and line up at the pumps fearing the worst – the freakin’ guy ahead of you took the last drop of regular and your idiot light tells you that you’re driving on fumes. Many run out of gas before they reach the pump and kind people who already pumped their gas might help with a push; however, what made the nightly news are the battles for places in line and punches thrown. How nice! It’s yet another major hiccup in the good old US of A, revealing our increasing dependency on fuel. A ridiculous, man-made crisis, indeed.
Right now, I have one-third tank of gas which will get me to work for the rest of the week if I coast down hills in neutral, turn off the A/C, and drive under the speed limit (impossible). I worry for those who don’t have the option of working from home. I’ll probably work from home a day or two this week or buy a bike. But we don’t have bike lanes! Yay! I’m off the hook!
This situation reminds me of blizzards. Don’t laugh. We’re housebound, so I cook. I don’t even like to cook. And I certainly don’t need to eat.
There is good news! Storm No Name off the coast moved west and graced us with a slow soaker for two straight days and brought some chilly weather with it.
My bird feeders are stored in the garage for a few weeks or months. That’s another story I’ll tell this week. I found a bird, not clinging on a feeder, in the rain. Imagine that.
I’m a little uncomfortable here. Do you have any seeds? Where are the seeds?
Stop laughing at me or I’m out of here.
On to dogs.
Meet Junior, a neighbor. I couldn’t resist taking this photo from my driver seat on the way to work. He’s waiting for his family to walk him to the school bus stop. I think Junior enjoys his morning quiet time on the front porch because he lives with three elementary school children. Do you blame him? Are English Bulldogs hunks of love, or what?
Take a look at old photos of my own hunks of love. It’s been too long since they’ve appeared on my blog.
My grand-dog Bam. Always happy, just to BE.