Ten Days That Didn't Shake the World; Ice Strom/Storm; Kafka in the Rain

Somehow or other, I've managed to skip almost ten days in the journalling process. Actually, I did not realize it was that long until now. Could I have been caught in a time warp? When last I wrote, I had been to the doctor that day. Then I was sick for a couple of days, then went back to work on Friday of last week. And as usual everybody showed up wanting something. Then I spend most of the weekend trying to catch up or get further behind. Then the first couple of days of these week were marked by incessant demands on my limited time. Which leads to the next part about the ice storm.

To begin with, I keep typing "storm," but it keeps coming out "strom." Is that some type of Freudian something?

The first, and possibly the last, storm of winter slowly uncurled across the not-so-sunny southland Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Dire predictions of ice and snow to ravage the landscape. Anytime this happens, there is pandemonium. Crowds rush the supermarkets stripping the shelves of bread and olives. The hardware stores are depleted of candles, batteries and emergency lights.

The "dire predictions" are more of a nuisance than the storm. A constant barrage of reminders. I want to scream, "Drive me to the nearest gin mill, and check on me in a couple of days!"

The biggest problem is a loss of power. There are many old and very tall pine trees in my neighborhood. Pines do very poorly if covered with ice; branches will quickly snap bringing down the any power lines beneath them.

Fortunately, it was just warm enough to prevent the ice from accumulating on trees or roads. However, I'm sure the areas close to the north were not as lucky.

I got a traffic ticket this morning for an expired license tag, which was entirely my fault and stupidity. When the tag was due, I was in the throes of thinking about buying another car, so I let the tag business slip. Then I got sick, then ... Anyway, you get the picture. So several months later, I still didn't have a tag.

Having gotten the ticket this AM, I spent the PM in a farcical Kafka-like pursuit to purchase the tag decal and pay the fine. I quickly figured out why public buildings need metal detectors at the entrances. By the time, you've treaked back and forth trying to figure out what you're doing, I can see how easy it would be to go postal.

Impressions: Guys trying to pay court costs on the installment plan. People behind the counters looking like zombies. Smudge-marked tickets and forms and slips and folders and cards being shuffled back and forth. Long, slick-marble-floored halls devoid of life. Peering into the distance as you wait for the words, "Next!" Rooms too hot or too cold. How removed my normal existence is from this process.

And the fine was about 5 times the cost of tag.

PAX!