He talks.  Oh yeah.  If you had three hours and he finds you, he’ll consume every minute.  Hobbling from his truck, past the single bullet hole, up to within three feet, he starts yapping like a like captive escaped and un-muzzled.  Knowing everything and listening to nothing and missing the point.  Trying to impress so hard that a form of depression sets in.  As I say goodbye in the middle of a diatribe after his three hours are up, he moves with me as I move away and toward his exit gate.  Only when he stayed well past the appointment time someone had set for him does him inch back towards his truck door.   Only silence will silence him.  No talking.  No expression.  Play dead.  By the time he is gone I am spent. But it was worth it – on occasion.

My cabin in the woods was homemade.  Redneck rafters made out of spliced two by fours.  Spliced wires snake through the walls and attic.  Plumbing and sewer lines barely buried and cheaply and inexpertly connected.

Today I need a friend.  It always happens.  I get all pumped up and inspired to do great things and then something happens to rain on my parade like…a massive break in my sewer line.  Ok, I know its always something.  The rain washed away enough dirt to expose the break in the sewer created by the professional tree cutters I hired.