Warpath In The Oil Patch

Got to relate a story I was told this week by another oil hauler. 

He was at a well location out in the middle of nowhere a couple of weeks ago, Around 3 am he had gone up on the tanks to gauge or measure how much oil was in the tank. As he was reading the steel tape, he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. He knew that he was the only person in the area and the movement startled him. 

Standing at the other end of the cat walk was a tall Indian brave in full war paint holding an ax in one hand and a spear in the other. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up and as he turned to face the brave, he was frozen with fear. The warrior started walking toward him and all he could do was stare into his eyes. What he was seeing didn't look transparent or ghostly, it looked to be a solid, well built man ready to battle.

Unable to utter a sound, all he could do was watch as the brave approached and proceeded to walk straight through him and down the steps behind him before walking off into the night.

Turns out, the well was permitted and built on an ancient sacred Indian burial ground and this wasn't the first time someone had provoked a spirit and had an encounter. He told me where the well was located and you can bet the farm that I'll only work it during the daytime if I ever have to. I have no desire to have a warrior walk through me or step in what he would find behind me.

Hopping Chocolate

Got in this morning a few minutes after four.

I just barely beat the sunrise and thought I would have time to grab a quick shower, put some clothes on to wash and cap off a twenty one hour day with a Klondike bar. It was one of those mint flavored ones that Julie has managed to get me hooked on.

There is no way to describe how good the hot shower felt, it's about the only thing that soothes aching joints after a long day spent climbing in and out of a truck. I stood for what seemed like an eternity under the twin shower heads, but eventually the visions of the waiting Klondike bar and some wrinkled up palms finally convinced me that I'd been in there long enough.

Now I've gone through about a dozen or more packages of the bars and managed to perfect the way to fold the wrapper so none of the chocolate would end up on whatever I happened to be wearing at the moment. The fact that I'd never eaten one with a towel wrapped around me simply didn't occur to me, probably wouldn't have made any difference anyway since the craving was in total control by the time I reached the fridge.

I carefully folded back the foil and took the first bite off the left corner, just like I was suppose to.

Everything was going great until I started down the stairs and somehow a piece of the chocolate about the size of a quarter managed to fly off and land on a part of my left foot that I haven't been able to touch since 1979.

I tried picking up my foot and reaching down with my left hand but that only made the towel hit the floor. If you're over fifty, pick up your foot and then try to bend over and get something off the floor without your foot flying up behind you. It's a long way down there, the towel was going to have to wait.

I tried reaching across with my right hand but came up two inches short. It's amazing how straining with your knee just under your chin will make your eyes close, I couldn't see a thing on those two attempts but when they finally opened it was still there.

By now the stuff was beginning to melt and I really didn't want to go through the ordeal of getting chocolate out of the carpet so this idea of hopping to the bathroom somehow popped into my head. It seemed like the perfect solution until I got within range of the mirror. It's impossible to grow old gracefully when there are mirrors around, things don't always hop at the same time.

Next time I'll just rent a carpet cleaner.