An Abundance of Sprinkles

Tired

Today’s Exploit:

I was going to have a nice story about pretending to be a Paleo person, but then I had to do work at 2:00am after a late night, and the next night I had to do work at 1:00am. And I got tired and lethargic. 

I was also going to make cupcakes for the rig crews, but I was tired and the oven doesn’t work. So now I have an abundance of sprinkles and butter, and no way to use them.

Also, I wish I had a better story to go with this post title, because I really like it and this post is pretty sad.

Maybe tomorrow I can write an “Abundance of Sprinkles” story that better suits.

I Saw a Monster

I’ve spent the past few nights having dreams/nightmares about forgetting assignments. They include my high school English teacher, Africa, forgetting homework over the weekend and papers that are supposed to require full reams of paper.  

I don’t know. 

Somehow this pertains to my worry over writing a 500 word paper about a “project”. I was never worried about the 1000 word paper on a subject that is completely new to me.

Today’s Exploit:

I have spent the past few years reading about Chupacabras and thinking that they are some version of the yeti or bigfoot. I don’t know why I thought that. I spend enough time complaining about the heat that I should have realized that a Texas ‘monster’ would not be covered in thick/extra long hair. 

But then I saw a doglike animal on my way to town from one of the rigs. It was extremely skinny, sort of Chihuahua-shaped but closer to 18inches tall, or so. Also, it’s ears were overly large and it’s ribs poked out.

I mentioned this to H. a few days later, because I’d come close to hitting the animal on my trip. The first thing he said was, “A chupacabra!” 

I was completely thrown, I thought it was a dog.

But evidently his version of the monster is a dog with extra long fangs, and mange.

Today I looked up some information on the chupacabra and found that, according to Wikipedia, they should be as big as a small bear, with vaguely alien looking eyes and spikes running down it’s spine. And they should have green lizard skin and three toes on each foot.

Who knows?

I may have seen a mythical monster.

Or I may have seen a sick dog with extra large ears.

The Great Mouse Hunt

Did you know that you can make flax seeds into granola? I didn’t. I want to try it but I can’t find flax in the middle-of-nowhere.

Today’s Exploit:

We have mice.

It appears that we have many of them.

We saw 3 in about 10 minutes the other day.

That is when the hunt began.

Matt and George and Reed take turns with the BB gun, they have set out a multitude of sticky traps and all the doors are blocked with towels to keep them out of bedrooms.

They do this because the mice seem to like to cuddle with me.

They managed to shoot one and catch another on a sticky trap. 

Another got caught in a sticky trap when they were all gone.

It was so sad. 

I hate sticky traps.

So I took the trapped mouse outside and dropped a brick on it so it wouldn’t have to struggle and eventually starve.

I didn’t like it.

I almost cried.

And there was no one there to give me a hug.

They Plague Me

I have been reading Terry Pratchett continuously for the past 2.475 months. I still have many books to go before I finish them all. Yet there are nowhere near enough of them left.

Today’s Exploit:

Another mouse is in our trailer. It was on my bed again the other night. I yelled at it and flailed around trying to throw it off my bed and into never-never land where it will live it’s life in rodent heaven and never want to climb on my bed again. 

Today I did laundry and washed my sheets to cleanse them of mouse filth.

Ew.

Also, today, George told me that he saved my life last night without me knowing it. He shot the mouse as it was making a dash for my room. Then he shot it again as it tried to escape from it’s spot under the stove. 

I’m not sure which makes me more nervous. The mouse or George.

At least it didn’t come and run around on my bed again. 

My sheets won’t last very long if it keeps doing that, since I have to wash them vigorously after being touched by the horrible, horrible monster. 

I think that this is one situation in which I would welcome Oni, and not hate her when she tries to sleep behind my knees. 

AAAAHHHH! They’re EVERYWHERE!

My strawberry preserves are pretty syrupy, but they are really good on ice cream, with some chocolate. And they are good on scones and waffles.

Today’s Exploit:

The other week I did yard work. I think I mentioned a garden.

The other thing that happened was an infestation.

We were out in the yard and Klay was trying out the weed puller tool. And like any kid (I know I did it a time or two), he managed to throw a lot of dirt in his own face. So I took him into the bathroom where he panicked when I tried to use eyedrops to get the dirt out of his eyes and was just fine with “water” being dropped in his eyes. 

While we were all crowded in there trying to get the dirt out a dog came in. The neighbor dog digs under the fence and H. left the door open inviting it in. The dog was lead out, and the dirt crisis was managed and all was good until H. noticed a tickle.

He found a tick on his side.

Ew.

He killed it with a lighter and started making dinner.

Then he found another one.

We couldn’t decide if this was from working in the yard, because I didn’t seem to have any, or from the dog.

Upon inspection the wall by the back door had several ticks, and the bathroom had more than desirable.  

We thought it must be the dog, since they were mostly where the dog had been.

But then H. went to the garage and shook his shirt out and several more fell off.  

Gah.

Nothing like the creepy-crawlies right before going to bed.

That night he sprayed the yard with tick-and-other-bug spray, and watched as multitudes tried to climb up the wall to escape.

Turns out it was the yard and the crazy-super-tall-spiky-poky plants he’d been pulling. 

The next day he sprayed again, and again.

The back patio looked like a rain storm, just before too many raindrops fall and all the concrete turns dark with the wet.

SO MANY!

I also spent that night going over the hallway and the bedroom inch by inch with a flashlight, a paper and a candle to make sure that they were not going to attack in the night.

Everywhere.

I get the creepies just thinking about it.

A Mini Dorm Room

I am reading Pride and Prejudice. I’m sure I’m missing much of the context due to the language difference, but so far it seems like a bunch of overly dramatic girls and very dense men. I have not discovered Mr. Darcy’s charm thus far. 

Today’s Exploit:

I used to live in a dorm. The rooms are small and you have to share. Also, communal bathrooms are gross, no matter how often they are cleaned. And mostly the whole floor knows exactly what you are doing at any given moment, and can hear all your conversations in HD.

This week I am living in a dorm room again. Except it’s a bunch of nasty guys on my floor, and the walls are made of 2.3 sheets of paper instead of .273 layers of brick. 

Through that wall is the door, people like to stand
there and shout as loud as possible.

The pros of paper:

-It doesn’t hurt when you fling your arm up to use as a pillow. No more scraped knuckles.

-It’s easier to decorate with cork-board “pictures”. A picture and a place to pin your papers, all in one pretty frame.

-If you trip and fall, you’ll fall through the wall and the debris will cushion your landing, rather than bashing your head on some bricks.

The cons of paper:

-If you fling your arm up, particularly roughly, to use as a pillow you will punch through the wall.

-The cork-board picture might fall down due to insubstantial support from the wall.

-If someone whispers on the other side of the building it will sound like they’re standing on your head and screaming as loud as they can in your ear. 

Also, I lived by the main door for 2 weeks. That was pure torture. Everyone is quiet at night. No one is quiet during the day. And they turn the heat to “blistering” and my room is the first on the overflow list. Then, if I open my window to cool down a teensy bit, someone will stand under it and smoke cigarettes the whole time.

My new room is larger, it has shelves and drawers, my
own sink and a connecting bathroom. And the only noises are
from generators. 

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. 

The Green Thumb of Cooking

Today’s Exploit:

I got two small days off, when they sent someone to the other rig to take my place and before they sent me back to my rig. It was lovely and horrible. I loved that I got time off, I’m getting used to this schedule thing and going to another rig disrupted it. And it was horrible because I only had 2 days, gah.

But now I am back on my rig and dying from heat and lack of sleep. George basically forced me to go to bed, telling me that he’d make absolutely certain that my depth was right before they started drilling, and my night hand, Harley, said I could sleep late this morning if I needed. 

I like working with nice people.

Today, after checking on the computers and making sure everything was working properly, I went back to the trailer to make breakfast. I stuck a frozen waffle in the toaster, a store bought one because I never remember to make enough right before I go to work to have fresh ones. While it was toasting I was washing and slicing some strawberries to put on top of said waffle. Suddenly George was leaning over my shoulder sniffing like he’d just found the prize apple pie at the county fair. 

Me: It’s a waffle, do you want one?

George: No, but you have a way of making everything smell good.

Me: It’s a frozen waffle, I didn’t do anything to it.

George: I know! But everything you cook smells amazing. You have a talent!

So, evidently I have a talent for making frozen store waffles smell good. It’s, like, the green thumb of cooking. The Cinnamon Nose, or something. But it’s my magical talent, so I’ll take it.

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

This Week: In Review

Countdown:  62 Days.  

Have you read Clockwork Angel yet?  I like it.  

Today’s Exploit:

This week was the week from hell.

Monday:  Start new run.  This should be smooth sailing because we’re using fancy-schmancy tools.

Tuesday: Tool fails, but the help desk and manager are desperate to make it work.  Try random, pointless modifications for 3.16 hours. Aand we have no backup tools. 

Tuesday Night:  Backup arrives 5.3 hours after they told us it should 11pm.  Race to program and pick up new arrival.

Wednesday:  Yay, the tool is working, and I’m giddy from lack of sleep.  Just for good measure I get an infection that makes doing anything and nothing hurt.  Spend 3 hours in the emergency room because the doctor is busy.  Then he prescribes pain pills I said I didn’t want and some antibiotic after beating me up.

Wednesday Night:  Arrive back at the rig to discover tool problems again.  The DD thinks he’s the king of the world, and the manager tells me to change the sensor again.  You know how that story ends.

Thursday:  Things are working, but loopy from lack of sleep.

Friday:  Hospital calls and says that antibiotic isn’t going to work, you have to get a new one.

Friday Night/Early Saturday:  We finished drilling!  PS You get to stay up late changing the tool again.  And that gunk in your eye?  It’s not just sleep, or lack thereof.  It’s probably pinkeye.  Hehe.

Saturday:   Also, the pharmacy’s closed so no one can tell you what kind of eyedrops you should get.  And your eye is going to insist on feeling like a gargoyle is using it as a stress ball.

On the plus side, I did get to sleep for a few hours while they tripping back in.

My Yard is too Small

I think I just became the worst lead hand ever.  I slept through my alarm for the second time, on just this job.

Today’s Exploit:

I miss Jack.  He’s now a lump of mush on my porch, attracting flies and making my landlord call with requests for me to remove him.  I want it to still be Halloween so that I can carve another.

I also miss these two dudes.  I think they need to come stay with me.  We would make cookies and go for bike rides and play “Tickle Monster”.  Unfortunately my yard is not as good as their yard for that game.

Helping my sister make pizza for her birthday.

Posing for me when I visited in April.

The Makings of a Nightmare

The night DD calls me "Princess".  

I’m not sure if I should be worried about this, or find it completely hilarious.

Today’s Exploit:

I had a nightmare last night.  It was horrible, and scary, and terrifying.  I was relieved when my alarm went off.  

My nightmares don’t involve monsters or aliens or murderers.  

They involve me getting hit in the mouth.  Or not.  Yet somehow I always end up with broken teeth.  Last night’s was particularly nasty because whatever I did ended with four of my teeth broken and bleeding.  Yes, in my dreams my teeth bleed.

It never fails that I wake from these dreams feeling my mouth to make sure my cap didn’t fall off in the night.  I have to reassure myself that the rest of the teeth that were “broken” are also still intact.  

Then it takes about 30 minutes for my heart rate to return to normal.  

Tired of Working

Today’s TV gems:  super-crazy preacher-lady, Looney Tunes.

I still get the whole back-story, to be sure I’m up to date on these wonderful shows, and the conclusion, in case I might leave just before the show ends.

Today’s Exploit:

I’ve slept four nights in my bed since moving it to my new apartment a month an a half ago.  Most of my nights have been spent running mile and miles to escape the Friday Night Fight Night or Monday Night Smackdown.  

Naturally the top four shows watched in this trailer are:

*The Newlywed Show

*Deal or No Deal

*Smackdown

*Whatever-other-fake-wrestling-show-they-can-find

And they wonder why I don’t spend evenings lolling on the couch with them.  

With the exception of the Newlywed Show each of these contains excessive jumping-around-like-a-lunatic and far to few articles of clothing.  They also contain horrible acting skills, but are taken very seriously by Pat and Ricardo.  

They spend hours discussing the results of the wrestling shows, and exclaiming, “Did you just see that?!”  Most of these exclamations follow very graceful gymnastic stunts where someone gets “knocked out”.

Another delightful pastime of my roommates is to aggravate the night mud logger.  This guy is not pleasant to be around, he complains about everything and is never wrong, but they get him riled up to a fanatical state.

The other night they were doing this as I tried to sleep, after only getting four hours of sleep the night before.  I can generally hear only pieces of their conversations, but this night it escalated into a shouting match.  When I mentioned this the next morning they said, “Oh, we thought you were just taking a long run.”

Seriously?  It’s been dark for two hours!  I’ve never been gone for more than an hour an a half; and you brush off the fact that I probably would have left five hours ago on this run?  At least I know the roughnecks worry about me, they can tell me how long my last four runs lasted.  

I’m stuck in a black hole of utter oblivion, half-naked TV shows and micro-scrutiny.

I want a day off.

Packing a Mountain into a Molehill

I’ve been a slacker lately.  

Also, I’ve been too busy to find something funny to write about.  And when I’m not too busy I fall asleep in my chair.

Today’s Exploit:

I went to Oklahoma City one last time.

I had to pack the last few items I left at that apartment and clean the floors and make sure none of the counters had egg yolk cemented to them.

Just kidding.  I’m good at cleaning up the egg yolk before it turns into cement.  Mostly I had to pack and vacuum.  

First I pulled everything from the rooms into the living room.  

Then I covered my eyes and went to find my vacuum so that I could procrastinate the packing part.  

I vacuumed the two bedrooms and the kitchen and the dining room.  

I took a load of things to the Salvation Army while Starla was still empty and went to the store for lunch and Swiffer scrubbies for my kitchen and bathrooms.

After I had lunch sitting on the newly cleaned dining room floor, while shielding my eyes from the pile that was in the living area, I got out the scrubbies and made those floors squeaky clean.  

I was still trying to avoid the hill in the living room, so I borrowed a dolly from the office and took my desk to the dumpster.  I got there just as a nice man was driving by looking for salvageable items.  He liked the desk, so I helped him pack it into his truck.  

When I took the dolly back to the office, I also took a toy dolly for the office manager’s daughters.  Because it hadn’t been out of it’s box in at least 9.72 years.  

Then the only thing left to do was face the mountain.  

I went back inside and nearly cried.  

Then I decided to be tough and take even more stuff to the Salvation Army.  Cause I drive a Civic.  Only so much junk will fit...

The Salvation Army guy was really excited about the vacuum.  

After that I went back, took a deep breath, and started toting stuff down to Starla.  

It was super-engineering to organize all that stuff to fit economically into a small space.  

It was a work of art.

I couldn’t see out the back window.

BUT I DID IT!  

And then I turned in some keys.