Monday, December 06, 2004
On TV, tractors and tater wagons
By The Erudite Redneck
Somebody asked me today how I find time to sleep. Well, by not watching much TV.
Lordy, it ain't hard. A couple of hundred channels are on that TV in the other room, and it's ususally on CNN, MSNBC, or Fox. Or the Western Channel.
If it ain't a Western, the news or a Sherlock Holmes movie that Dr. ER has persuaded me to watch, I haven't been watching it. Oh, I do try to catch the Blue Collar Comedy guys. But the TV is not a big deal to me. Ask Dr. ER. I would just as soon not have the TV that is in our bedroom in our bedroom.
Today was a bear. I was up at 4:30, did some homework, back in bed at 7:15, back up at 8:30, then off to school and work; back home at 7:30 p.m., behind this computer at home until about 9, then off to Kinko's and back.
Since then, I've kind of been piddling. Fiddling around on-line. Looking through a book on the last days of the Confederate government that is in one of my to-read stacks.
It was a rare couple of hours of coasting after a particularly hellacious stretch.
Break is over at 5:30 in the a.m. of the mornin'!
At times today, I was mentally trudging. And when my friend asked me if I ever slept, what she meant was, how do you find the energy to do all the things you do? I don't know.
I do know that I have spent daylight-to-dark on a tractor; I have hoed from sunrise to dang near sunset on long summer days; I have hauled hay all day; and I have worked 10 or more hours at a time at a factory where the temperature was well over 100 degrees.
I'm busy, but what I've been doin' ain't work. Not compared to that.
I was raised amongst an extended family of farming-ranching types who tended to work until the work, or the day, was done. I guess that rubbed off on me.
I don't think it's that I'm dedicated or committed or any of that, although I guess I am. The truth is I'm stubborn and prideful. Once I start something, I'll be danged if I'll wimp out of it, if I can help it.
I'm like the turtle that won't let go until it comes a tater wagon*, I reckon.
The wagons will rumble bigtime at about noon next Monday. I'm liable to relax so fast I pee my britches.
--* "Tater wagon." What Mama used to tell me was makin' the scary noises in the sky when it was stormin' when I was a little bitty ER: a potato wagon, as in a noisy wagonload of taters: thunder. I'll bet she got that from her own mama!
END
Somebody asked me today how I find time to sleep. Well, by not watching much TV.
Lordy, it ain't hard. A couple of hundred channels are on that TV in the other room, and it's ususally on CNN, MSNBC, or Fox. Or the Western Channel.
If it ain't a Western, the news or a Sherlock Holmes movie that Dr. ER has persuaded me to watch, I haven't been watching it. Oh, I do try to catch the Blue Collar Comedy guys. But the TV is not a big deal to me. Ask Dr. ER. I would just as soon not have the TV that is in our bedroom in our bedroom.
Today was a bear. I was up at 4:30, did some homework, back in bed at 7:15, back up at 8:30, then off to school and work; back home at 7:30 p.m., behind this computer at home until about 9, then off to Kinko's and back.
Since then, I've kind of been piddling. Fiddling around on-line. Looking through a book on the last days of the Confederate government that is in one of my to-read stacks.
It was a rare couple of hours of coasting after a particularly hellacious stretch.
Break is over at 5:30 in the a.m. of the mornin'!
At times today, I was mentally trudging. And when my friend asked me if I ever slept, what she meant was, how do you find the energy to do all the things you do? I don't know.
I do know that I have spent daylight-to-dark on a tractor; I have hoed from sunrise to dang near sunset on long summer days; I have hauled hay all day; and I have worked 10 or more hours at a time at a factory where the temperature was well over 100 degrees.
I'm busy, but what I've been doin' ain't work. Not compared to that.
I was raised amongst an extended family of farming-ranching types who tended to work until the work, or the day, was done. I guess that rubbed off on me.
I don't think it's that I'm dedicated or committed or any of that, although I guess I am. The truth is I'm stubborn and prideful. Once I start something, I'll be danged if I'll wimp out of it, if I can help it.
I'm like the turtle that won't let go until it comes a tater wagon*, I reckon.
The wagons will rumble bigtime at about noon next Monday. I'm liable to relax so fast I pee my britches.
--* "Tater wagon." What Mama used to tell me was makin' the scary noises in the sky when it was stormin' when I was a little bitty ER: a potato wagon, as in a noisy wagonload of taters: thunder. I'll bet she got that from her own mama!
END
