Why Are the Classes So EASY?

It is so dry at this rig that the first turn from the rig has a puddle of dust. When I run I have a hard time finding solid ground to get around it. So every step I take makes a dust cloud worthy of a large explosion, and I have gritty toes for the next 3-5 miles.

Today’s Exploit:

I have been worried about one of my last classes for this Business program since I saw that it was worth 2 more points/credits/whatnot than the other classes. I was afraid it would be harder, take longer, require more effort.

And then it started. I had dreams about forgetting to write an essay for my high school English teacher. It was horrible. He pinched my arm.

I started one paper. It was less than a page. 

The next one was more than a page, but not by much.

The third one was 2 pages, because it used the second one as Part I. 

This class is easier than my introductory class that wanted me to set goals.

How is it worth more than the worthless English and Marketing classes I took?

The hardest part will be compiling 7 or so papers into a PowerPoint presentation.

I hate PowerPoint.

Business Law is definitely more complicated, but not by a lot. 

I suppose I should know by now that the class will not be particularly challenging, I have been doing this for over a year. Yet, somehow, I am always expecting a class more along the lines of those for Engineering. 

I wonder if all Business programs are this soft? 

I Knew I Was a Beast of Burden, But Really?

I have been waiting for a year to find out what the date 22 March 2013 holds that is significant. I was told that if I waited until then I would find out.  I am still waiting.  Rawr.

Today’s Exploit:

I work in a horse trailer now. I am no longer worthy of a box. This is sad, in case you were unsure about that transition.

The box was insulated, and had a working AC unit and blocked the noise, well most of it, of a drilling rig. As much as I complained about it, I rather liked the box. 

My current working conditions are sweaty, loud and wobbly. 

The AC barely works, and does not keep up with spring temperatures. I dread summer. Not to mention, part of it fell on my face the other day. And I didn’t even get a black eye to show for it. Stupid AC. 

I got a little fan, and it helps a little. Sadly, I’m thinking I should have gotten the super-extra-mammoth-industrial-17 speed fan. It might have put a dent in this heat. 

The loud part comes from the fact that my horse trailer is made from some plywood. Just thick enough that a standard cabinet handle won’t work properly. It has no insulation, thus the heat, and the cold at night. (It was actually in the 30s the last 2 days.) And it sounds like I am on the rig floor with my ear against the loudest mechanism. It may be worse. It may be that I have a funnel gathering all of the noise and maximizing it to feed into my ears on the itty-bitty end. And that is on top of the standard buzzing of the transformer, and the AC fan trying it’s hardest to blow hot air into the sweltering mess.

The trailer is on wheels, naturally, but they didn’t think it necessary to stabilize it. Therefore it rocks like a see-saw when you sneeze, and wobbles awkwardly if you dare to breathe. It also dances in the wind and jitters in the rain. I have to work off my “sea legs” every time I get out for some natural light.

By the way, this trailer does not have any windows, the door latch barely works and there is no handle to pull the door closed. It’s fun, you get to slam the door as hard as possible without getting fingers in the way, or letting the wind catch it about 23 times before it latches. 

I Might Be Able To Sleep Now

I ran 4.97 miles in 45 minutes. I even had to walk 0.33 miles. I have renewed hope that I might be able to finish my race in something somewhat, maybe close to my goal. But I’m trying not to get my hopes up.

Today’s Exploit:

The mouse, the one that has been haunting my nights and making it even harder than usual to fall asleep, and making sure that I wake up even more than normal, has been caught.

Finally.

I’m told it was taken outside. 

I’m guessing it was on a sticky trap and will slowly die of thirst, but I’m going to pretend that it was a snappy trap and it had a quick clean death. Even with the amount of trauma that the monster caused me, I don’t really want it to suffer. 

Naturally the timing of this event is just so that, if I have to stay tonight, tonight will be my last night. And therefore it will not be any easier to sleep because I’ll be excited about going home. 

Gah.

Mice Are No Longer Friends

I have less than 3 weeks until I kill myself in a most torturous manner. 26.2 miles of hopefully not exceptionally hot Texas weather. My goal is 4 hours, I’m pretty sure I’m not going to make it, but I plan on finishing anyway. Then I’ll fall over and twitch a bit before I expire.

Today’s Exploit:

I was okay with the mouse that ran around the kitchen, and not overly concerned about the mousetrap wars that followed.

I was also okay with the two that played under the table while I washed dishes, only running away when I had to cross their path to get to the bedroom. And I was a bit disgusted with the fact that they chewed through one of my headphones, but it was the replaceable part. 

I laughed at George the other day when one ran from the fridge to the recliner and he wouldn’t put his feet on the floor until he had to go outside. 

That all changed last night.

I was in bed trying to relax my brain enough to go to sleep, a nightly trial. Then I heard scratching. When I looked nothing moved and I attributed it to my imagination, which tends to go wild at bedtime. I heard it again, and was met with the same results when I looked for the source. I re-situated myself so that I could see off the bed if I heard another noise, and proceeded to fight the random flight of my thoughts.

Suddenly I felt a tickling on my head. One of those creepy feelings that moves along a line, and you’re sure it’s a bug, but it turns out to be your imagination when you try to brush it away.

I took a deep breath and made myself stay still and try to relax. 

That was when I felt something moving down my side.

I sat up as fast as I could.

The mouse ran the length of the bed and disappeared.

I made a noise something along the lines of “Gaaah-rrrraaaaawwwweeerrr” (which translates to something along the lines of: BLOODY HELL, THERE’S A MOUSE IN MY BED AND THAT IS DEFINITELY NOT SOME PLACE THAT A MOUSE SHOULD BE! GET OFF! GET OFF! GET OFF!) and jumped up.

Naturally by then the mouse had vanished completely, and did not appear to be in any of my bags or under the bed or hiding in the A/C closet. I searched each of these places at least 3 times before I retired to the living room.

I proceeded to sit on the couch, curled as small as I could get, and watch for the mouse for the next hour.  

I also spent this time trying to convince myself that I really needed to get some sleep, and the mouse only touched the outside of the sleeping bag. And maybe my pillow.

Probably my pillow.

I searched the room another 3 times, and my sheets 7 times.

I finally did make myself get back in bed, using a tiny corner of my pillow that I knew no mouse feet had touched.

I got an astounding 2.1 hours of sleep between trying to get comfortable, trying to make myself relax and feeling phantom mice feed EVERYWHERE.

Mice are no longer something I can see without thinking they were in my bed, and probably eating my food while I washed my hands. 

I was ok with traps before, but now I think we need about 17 in each crevice. 

A Long Job

Today’s Exploit:

We drilled 7 feet last night. It was a winner of a 12-hour cycle. 

This job is supposed to be done in 4 days, according to the report I received from my manager at the beginning. We have 2 wells to drill and are still working on the first 500 feet of the first one. That means that we still have over 9000 feet to drill. 

At 1.02 feet per hour. 

This is going to be a long job.

A Poem on Drilling

Countdown:  11 Days.  The nerves.  They tingle.

They’re really trying to convert me to shrimp and crawfish out here.  By way of stuffing it down my throat.  

Today’s Exploit:

It never fails.  

The well is almost done.  You want to go home.  Things are going well. 

Go get excited about going home tomorrow or the next day.

BAM!

Something breaks.  You must stay another week.

Cry.

The Mouse House

Countdown: 16 days.

I watched “Drive” a couple weeks ago.  I was more bothered by the blood and violence than a 3 year old.

Today’s Exploit:

Last night I walked into the trailer.  Rather, this morning I walked into the trailer.  

I was greeted by two mice having a lovely time playing chase in the kitchen and laundry hall.  

I stood and watched for a few minutes before taking off my boots and hat and heading their direction to get ready for bed.  

They waited until I was in the kitchen before hiding.  

Later, when I was doing dishes, they came back out to play some more.  Right next to me.  They acted like they owned the place.  

And they played around the sticky traps that the guys had set up.  I’m pretty sure they were taunting the person who decided to buy them.  

When I went to bed I discovered that the little monsters had left a gift on my face mask.  Also one chewed part of the earpiece of my headphones for my iPod.  

Mice.  

Ah, well.  Let the Chicken Boys deal with them.  I’m going to live next door.

Now, That was a Cruel Joke

Countdown: 17 days *whimper*

I am currently addicted to Every Word on my Kindle.  I made it to level 8 once.  I think I may have jumped up and down and done a happy dance when I finally beat level 7.

Today’s Exploit:

I am living in a trailer with 5 guys and a Jeana.  

I’m pretty sure these guys were raised by chickens.  Have you ever smelled a chicken house?  Also, as chickens have no fingers, they never taught these people to wash dishes.  

Another likeness:  when they get together in the living room/kitchen/office they squawk and squabble and screech as loud as they are able.

As for the joke, we were told that we’re getting a new trailer out here.  It, evidently, is for the girls.  Thus, cleaner living for us and more room for the chicken boys.  When the trailer arrived the punchline was revealed.  The trailer with 2 rooms and 1 bathroom is for the directional drillers*.  Not for the people packed like sardines into a smelly rat house.  (They really did see what they called a rat today) 

So, we’re all stuck together.  Me, 5 guys raised by chickens, and a Jeana.

Fridge space and couch space are premium items here.  Snooze you lose, and all that jazz.  Better not hope to get that space back if you get up to get some water.

*A breakdown.  

Right now we have 8 trailers here:

-2 for the rig crews, that’s 6 to each trailer

-1 for the toolpusher, 1 person in that one

-2 for the company men/clerk, that’s 2 to each trailer

-1 for the DDs, 2 persons in that one

-1 for the Mud Engineer, 2 because he’s got the H2S guy rooming with him

-1 for the rest of us salty little fish (8)

PS. Happy Leap Day

My Hat is Clean

Countdown:  T minus one less day to prepare.

I started the Insanity workouts today.  All I did was the Fit Test and I’m exhausted.  I will be sore for the first real workout tomorrow.  

Today’s Exploit:

I was very proud of my dirty hardhat.  The one that was black with mud after my stupid mud shower.  The one where I had black hair and mud in my ears and up my nose and soaked through my coveralls.  

The one that made me stink for a week, no matter how hard I scrubbed.  

Well.  

Since I got here the roughnecks have been asking what happened, and why it’s dirty, and telling me how to clean it.

Today one of the roughnecks came over and asked if he could look at it for a minte.

He STOLE IT!

When he came back he had a nice, clean, white hardhat.

Now I can’t tell which one is mine.  And I look like a newbie.

Darn those guys for trying to be nice.  

I was proud of that mud.

The Drive Takes Forever

Countdown:  64 Days.  

I’m reading Great Expectations.  It’s surprisingly easy to follow, usually I have a hard time with the language in the classics.

Today’s Exploit:

Now that I have my home 1-2 hours from where I’ve been working for most of the last 1.783 years they’ve decided to send me back to East Texas.

So I’m back to the 5-6 hour drives to get home.

Stupid oilfield.  

I caved and moved to the hottest place on earth so that I could actually get home in a reasonable amount of time.  I think they sent me out here just to spite me.  

Or it could be that I’m terrible at saying NO.  

Maybe they’ll let me go home if I beg really pitifully.  

Speed Bump

I’m having a soup craving.  

Today’s Exploit:

The road to this rig is the worst I’ve ever encountered.

It is paved.

It doesn’t have many potholes.

It isn’t flooded.

It is relatively level, though not very wide.

It does, however, have 3.5 of the largest speed bumps I’ve ever encountered.  

Poor Starla hates me every time I decide to go to town.  I hate me too.

One only spans half the road, so I can go around it.  One is 4 feet across, so going over it is not exceedingly painful.  One is semi-tolerable if I take it at an angle.  

The last one is a doozy.

The last one gets me every time, no matter how fast or what angle I attempt to cross it.  

Starla cries, and I curse and cringe.  

It is a good thing I don’t “need to” go to town often.  Because that bump sure puts a damper on things.  I have been trying to only go when I’m starving because I have nothing else in the fridge.

They Sent the New Guy

I think someone stole my shirt.  A dirty, muddy, sweaty shirt.  

Gross.

Either that or I lost it,  which is probably more likely.  I just can't figure out when it happened.


Now I’m down to 3, which means laundry every day. 

Today’s Exploit:

I got a new trainee.

I don’t think this one had ever seen a rig before.

And sometimes he gets completely caught up in an idea that really has no bearing on this job.  And won’t let it go while I try to tell him something important.  

Also, he’s a foot taller than me and big and scary.  So I can’t yell at him to listen.

Not really.  

But he is tall.

Mostly I try to answer his questions briefly and then go back to what I was trying to explain in detail to begin with.  

I’m not really sure what to do with him.  Mostly they send me people who have been on another rig, with someone who knows what they’re doing.  So they already have an idea of what is important and what can be left for later.  

I don’t know if I’m the best teacher...

I hope he’s getting the idea.

They Try To Make Things Harder Than They Are

Boys are not good at re-stocking the toilet paper roll.

Today’s Exploit:

Today I had to change a sensor, so I called to the rig floor to ask them to shut down the pumps and send someone to close the valve in the drill line.  I didn’t want to get a mud-shower.  

I got my replacement sensor and the tools to change it.  But by the time I got to my old sensor 4 roughnecks were trying to take the sensor base off.

I yelled for them to stop, and they all looked at me blankly.   

Me:  I only need to change this piece!

RN1:  You don’t need the whole thing off?

Me:  No, I just need to take this protector piece off.

RN2:  It comes apart there?  

Me:  Yep, just have to take out these bolts and then take the sensor off.  

RN4:  Wow!

So we took off the protector.  They wouldn’t let me do any of the work, as usual.

Then Number 3 started looking for a wrench.  

RN3:  Do you have a smaller one, thinner?

Me: What?

RN3:  It doesn’t work, it’s too big.

Me:  Oh.  

I took it off by hand.  

Number 3 looked really embarrassed, and Numbers 1, 2 and 4 laughed at him as he proceeded to take the sensor off and give all of us a mud-shower.  

PS Oil based mud smells really bad.

They Just Sit There, Mocking Me

I need a coffee/tea mug.  This trailer I’m in only has 2.  And I‘m the only one who does dishes. 

That means any time I want tea I have to wash the cup before I can use it.  Usually that means getting the scrubber and clorox out because it has stage III green-and-black mold growing in it.  

I’m learning to keep anything I want to use hoarded away in my food box, otherwise it will disappear and/or culture the newest species of mold.

Also, I’m living with 6 guys, in a 3 bedroom/2 bathroom trailer.  One of the bathrooms is in a bedroom = EVERYONE uses the bathroom I use.  Stock up on the Clorox wipes.  And spray.  And Lysol.  

I might be cleaner if I sleep in my car and not shower for the next month.

Today’s Exploit:

I’m still working on unpacking.  

I’ve got everything organized except for the kitchen.  

I still have 5.7 large boxes of stuff to fit into my kitchen.  It will be trying.  

I can’t throw anything away because I use it all.  Amazingly enough.

It might take me until my lease is up to figure out what to do with this stuff.  

In the mean time, I don’t have hardware to put my table together.  So my boxes are residing in my dining area, quite content to mock my attempts to re-organize everything yet again.

The Search

Cabin? Cabin.  Kay, good.  I hope it gets cold tonight.

Today’s Exploit:

Searching for steel toed boots is a cinch.  

Searching for steel toed boots that will make as big an impact as my hideous pink ones is almost an impossible task.  

1. The same ones: 

Hideous.  And every one wants them.  Everyone.

B 1/2. The pretty ones:

They’re not quite so horrid without the blue.

Green. The Camo ones:  

Eh, they’re kinda boring.

C. The CATs:

They make me think of elementary school when everyone wanted Doc Martins, but settled for whatever looked closest.

Triangle. The Flowery ones:

The only ones I found that actually had any red at all.

O. The Moon Shoes:

Holey Freaking Awesome!  I would definitely wear these.  If they were slip-ons.

Purple. The Not-Boots:

They actually sell steel toed Hush Puppies.  I don’t think they’d let me wear these.  They don’t look like “real” work shoes.

Final. The Ones I Want:

These are amazing.  The only thing that would make them better is if the studs were rhinestones.  Too bad they’re Steel Shank instead of Steel Toed.  Turns out that’s a pretty big difference. 

Please, Please, Make It Stop!

Have I mentioned yet that I’m moving?  

I’m a little bit excited.

Today’s Exploit:

The day DD doesn’t like his bed.

He’s slept on the couch every night I’ve been here.  

He also stays up until at least midnight.

Eventually he’ll go to sleep and the other DD or I will go through and turn off the lights; maybe we’ll even turn down the TV.  It doesn’t really seem to matter to K.J., but it makes me feel better.

Then we sit in the office and talk, or read, or surf the internet, or write stories.  Occasionally one of us tiptoes into the kitchen for a snack or a soda or some lemonade.  We could tromp through the trailer like a heard of great white sharks and K.J. wouldn’t notice, but we tiptoe to be polite.

But it all changes at 5:30 am.  

That’s when the alarm goes off.

The alarm sounds like a fog horn, or a fire alarm on steroids.  

And it goes off for 27.2 minutes, at the very least.  

I try to ignore it by burying my nose in my book.

Then I close the door.

Then I turn up my music to full volume.

I can still hear the WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH of the alarm.

So I talk to Richard and we pretend that nothing is happening in the next room.  If I get really desperate I go outside for a while.  

This morning I went really crazy and poked K.J. in the arm until he sat up.  I nearly got punched in the eye and knocked over, but it made the alarm stop.