|AMTRAK Acela Express - Northeast Corridor Rail|
Leaving me, once again, home alone.
Alone to face the ravening hoards of boredom and loneliness.
|Like Toshiro Mifune's character in Yojimbo (用心棒), I stand alone.|
Of course I am.
Still and again, it's just me and the felines for the next couple of weeks.
Now The Nuke was supposed to come up last weekend, but the call of duty overrode the familial commitment. So her trip up to Little Rhody was postponed one week. To this weekend.
Yup, the same weekend as our latest Nor'easter. Up to a foot of snow predicted, with howling winds out of Valhalla to follow.
However, while we did get some snow, it was nothing like the Snowmageddon or Snowpocalypse that apparently The Weather Channel was predicting. (DirecTV, which I have, dropped The Weather Channel some weeks ago over a pricing dispute. At first I was sore annoyed. Lately, not so much. I don't miss the histrionics of that bunch as much as I thought!)
Still and all, the time came to drive on up to Providence to the train station, and it was snowing like crazy. Not much accumulation yet, but it was a'building.
Trundled down our unplowed street (not to complain, it had been plowed by the time we got home) and headed up the "main" drag to I-195. In front of us was a Roger Williams University college type. With New Jersey plates. Traveling at 15 miles per hour. Fifteen...
Now I have driven extensively in New Jersey. I have friends in New Jersey. (Hi Joe!) The only time I have seen people from the Garden State driving slowly is if they were running out of gas or their vehicle was disabled, trailing smoke, and heading for the ditch. I did not think people from that fair state had any "slow" in them.
|Yeah, kinda like that...|
Well, there is, apparently, one. And they sent him out of state to college. Perhaps to learn how to drive in snow as well. Who knows. But OMG was he driving slow!
Eventually we got to the train station, collected The Nuke and set course back to Chez Sarge. The return trip went well. Made good time. For some reason, everyone in the car was a little tense every time I yelled "Hang on!" and accelerated through some unplowed snow on the interstate. Hmph. I was totally in control. The entire time.
Indeed I am.
Now, The Nuke was catching the train back to DC on Sunday morning. (That would be today, or, hmmm, depends on when you read this, doesn't it? Pretend it was today. Or that today is the 16th of February 2014. Or something. Um, never mind...)
So we all get up at the crack of dawn for the trip back to the train station. Little Bit was, to say the least, not pleased at getting up so early. She made her displeasure known. Loudly.
When I came downstairs to see if the team was ready to board the vehicle, the grown up ladies were cajoling the three-year old. Trying to get her ready you see. And someone had had the temerity, the unmitigated gall to have brushed her hair. Before she had consented to said grooming. Therefore, she was in full bore rant, denouncing everyone in sight.
So I offered, "Why are you negotiating with a three-year old?"
The Nuke responded with "No one is negotiating with you Dad."
Hoist on my own petard.
For the next two weeks I can rant and rave to my heart's content.
Until the cats get annoyed.
They're already annoyed.