Day 12

For those handful of folks that have been following along, today will be a special DOUBLE installment!  A mind bending migrane headache yesterday evening prevented the very thought of staring at a computer screen to accomplish much of anything.  The day was relatively quiet really.  Only two trips to the school house, which I was thankful for as the weather has turned somewhat cold.  Not Carhart cold, but cold nonetheless.  Grey continues to be the preferred color of the sky and I am beginning to wonder if the Sun is even still out there somewhere.  Half day of school for the eldest and no school at all for the youngest, so the afternoon stetched on like an endless winter slumber. 

I had a few errands to run, but the boys were none too interested in braving the cold.  No need to get stressed out about it, the errands will wait for another day.  I am beginning to get the hang of the laid back way of things here.  I am though starting to get curious about the rate of mental illness in this country.  Don't get me wrong, I have seen some crazies on the street and Jess damned near got leveled by a dude that clearly thought he was from another planet as we were walking into a shop the other day.  Other than a few folks barking like a dog or carrying on angry conversations with acquaintenances that I could not see, I can't imagine mental illness is that prevalent here.  Certainly depression cannot be a frequent battle, as you would have to be concerned about things to get depressed about them.

We would spend a lazy afternoon slipping in and out of conciousness until mom arrived late in the evening.  Her commute is proving to be a bit longer than anticipated.  In addition, she had to stop by the auto seller to finish up the paperwork on the Renault this particular evening.  We are hoping the move out into Merignac will shorten her drive a bit.  Unfortunately, the delay and lack of my usual liberal dose of caffeine gave me just enough time to develop a debilitating migrane headache before her return.  Fortunately, everyone was quite tired from the labors of the week thus far so we called it an early night.  Friday promises to be a big day.  All automobiles will be picked up and the house will be ours.  Finally back to a bit of normalcy!

I ran into my first hiccup with power conversion today.  As most of you know, I like to keep my head shaved like a new born baby's . . . well you know.  It has been some time now since my last shearing, so I pulled out my trusty clippers and plugged them into one of my handy Korean made power converters we bought out of some back ally web store.  So far the converters have been a dream.  Not so lucky this time.  Upon thowing the switch, an arc of electricity and plume of smoke shot out of the wall causing the clippers lurched from my hand with an intimidating growl.  The clippers now free to roam the floors a la the vaccum cleaner in Mr. Mom I immediately sprang into action.  Trying my best to remember everything that Les Stroud ever taught me about capturing a venomous snake, I jumped to the side and then dove for the back of it's head.  You know the spot, right behind the blades so you can really control the creatures movements without recieving a nasty bite.  It looks like the hair is going to have to grow for yet another day.  I am beginning to look a little like Alfred E. Newman . . . Thanks Dad.

Since I am now a bit behind and due back at the school before too long, I will have to cut this a bit short.  I still have yet to collect my dog logs for the morning and have a couple of other matters to attend to before picking up my youngest.  Don't tell my wife, but my habit of picking up the dung has become a bit lax.  If it lands on a grassy patch, I am inclined to leave it behind as fertilizer.  Only in the event of a catastrophic pavement dump do I choke back my vomit and soil my delicate hands.  Other dogs are clearly handling their business in the grass and leaving it behind, so I figure this must be an acceptable practice.  A practice that I will continue until told otherwise.  STUPID DOG.

Oh, by the way, there is a not so subtle hint in the fourth paragraph for those of you that have been combing the internet for the answer to the riddle . . .  Who is Jack Butler?  If you can't figure it out from there, I can be of no futher help.