there will be a fight tomorrow

Tomorrow is what the Marines call a 'field day', meaning that the house gets cleaned up so I can leave for work on Tuesday and go aboard Wednesday.

In her book of rules and regulations there is a rule that says Field days are to be interrupted for something, ANYTHING!And, as usual, I will say no, and there will be a fight.

It has been this way since I have been going to sea and it has yet to happen smoothly. There is always some damned excuse to keep things from happening.Some people do not understand absolutes and think that THEY are the exception to EVERYTHING.

Guess what? It don't work like that.

In this business, you are supposed to be in the appointed place at the appointed time in the appointed uniform.

There are, however, 2 acceptable excuses. The first is that you are dead. Death is an acceptable excuse. The second acceptable excuse is that you have fallen down a 300 foot mine shaft. A 299 foot, 11 and 63/64ths inch deep one won't cut it. It has to be at LEAST 300 feet deep.

Time, tides, and ships wait for no man.

Yet, every single time Mrs Piccolo will try delay shipping for me, coming up with the same tired excuses.

Just once I'd like to be left alone for my field day, and get underway with no damned stress.

Just once.

Then again, I'd like to win the lottery.

Just once.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Worked like a cooley in the wayback. Boots and utes.

When it was over, Neighbor Bob, by earlier agreement was to come down back with his 4x4 and pull the chipper/shredder up for me.

Mrs Pic told me to haul the chain saw, pole saw, etc up the hill/

Why not just throw them in with the chipper/shredder? I asked.

She called me lazy and hauled all of that crap up the hill herself.

I may be lazy, but I am NOT stupid.