(The new flag of the Culpeper Minutemen hangs limply below the National Ensign near the Big Ass Rock in the gravel circular drive at Refuge Farm. Photo Socotra.)

I rose this morning at the farm, curiously refreshed, and on the brink of transitioning from One Thing to Another Thing. The move is done, or will be once the Panzer is unloaded and the crap sorted this sunny and quite delightful morning.

It was a marvelous drive down in spritzing rain, but it is always sunny in Culpeper when it is not pouring rain. I stopped at Croftburn Farms Market on the way in to get local veggies, but I had miscalculated and was after official closing. I tried the door when I saw that there was a light on in the back, and sure enough, the pert young lady who emerged told me she had forgotten to lock the door and all sorts of riff-raff were just walking in.

Despite being riff-raff, Angie treated me well, opening up the register and cutting me a piece of their home-made pepperoni and a fresh locally grown salad pepper.

I apologized for the inconvenience, but was thankful that dinner was assured. People are nicer in the country. I doubt if I would have gotten the same reception at the Giant over on Lee Highway in Arlington.

I put thoughts of cooking out of my mind when I swerved across the farm lane to put the driver’s side door up to the mailbox. I peered in before grabbing the mail, and was pleased I did.

Mouse is back in the Mailbox, so all’s right with his world, at least up until the moment I dropped the front side of his cozy nest, exposing him to the elements.

We blinked at one another solemnly. “I am thinking about stopping the mail altogether,” I said. “There is nothing worthwhile that comes to me here except advertising, and based on my recent reduction in circumstance, I am afraid I cannot continue to subsidize your lifestyle.”

Mouse said nothing whatsoever in response, obviously taking his presence as an entitlement. I am sure he was thinking of income inequity- him having so little and me so much- and the fact that something should be done about it. From my perspective, I do not dislike rodents, per se, since we have so many in Congress. Still, I find this system, by which the Occupier is fed with fresh nesting materials by the federal government on a near daily basis, is another example of the progressive state run amok at my personal expense.

I decided to defer action until the morrow, and gave Mouse the opportunity to Do the Right Thing and decamp.

The events of the week continued to roll over me as I mixed a cocktail and set up shop on the back deck. I have not had much time to think about anything else except where the bits of my life fit in a new series of boxes. Once the Panzer is unloaded, I am tempted to fill in the form as “MC,” or Mission Complete. Now the only challenge is getting to the airport for an eight o’clock flight tomorrow morning.

I think the last time I was in St. Louis was a lifetime ago- the regional headquarters of the McGraw-Hill book company was around there, someplace, and my interview went well enough to get hired on as what they called a “College Traveler.”

It sounded better than it was, though it was accurate enough in practice. I got paid to drive around Detroit, and as far north as Flint and south to Toledo. It was a pretty cool job for the first grown-up one, and the first in which I “worked from home,” a truly revolutionary concept at the time, but one that has now come around again, at the end of this phase of my working life.

It is more a question of what to work at, I think, but my mind is stuck on sensory overlead at the moment, and will defer action until my eyes uncross.

St. Louis. Aside from that long-ago job interview, I think I saw my first transvestite there- or at least the first one who was unconvincing enough to tell- teetering down the street on new high heels outside my hotel.

So, I am prepared for about anything as I attend an exciting government-sponsored conference on how to maximize my opportunities as a disabled Veteran.

Anyway, the Panzer-load of crap is calling out for my attention, and so is the Mouse’s dwelling in the mailbox. I evicted him for nearly three weeks last time- let’s see how determined we both are this time.

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter @jayare303