Random Notes on the Life of Tommy Acuff
Well, I've wandered into a Friday, moderately sleep deprived, but in the way that makes things funnier to me than they would be to the rest of you. This is a rambling post that comes after I've slept an hour, and everything feels like it's covered in oily cotton.
We've wandered into probably the prettiest day in Southeast Tennessee since the late Triassic period. I've taken advantage by taking an hour's nap in a hammock out at my folks' place. My folks are good for a lot of things. Hammocks is one of them. Remember that, my multitude of Tontos: my folks have a hammock.
If I catch you in that hammock, I will hit you with every stick I can find, for the rest of your life, and mine.
There is basketball on the television. Not so that I'd know it, of course. I'd originally planned to take this week off for vacation, but switched. Been a little ill about it for the past couple of days, because as much as I dig other sports more, the energy of the first weekend of the NCAA tournament isn't matched by much for me in the sporting world. Twice in two weeks, I'd made efforts to have short days for Thursday. Last week being the SEC tournament, and this week being the start of the NCAAs. Both days were covered up with woe and disappointment.
(I come by my penchant for the dramatic dishonestly: I stole it from your mother-in-law).
Got to watch a good bit last night, though. Enough to keep me out until 1:15, owing to that Athens is a damn hour from everywhere. Got to see Tennessee stay alive for one more day. (And got to see Ohio University completely destroy a bracket or two, in pools that I am). I'll say that I picked 9/16 right on the first day, making it my worst day, maybe since I've starting picking pools. Still, it's kept me muchly in the middle of the pack, as I think it's a lot of people's worst years....
Re-learned the lesson this morning that the Radio (KZ 106, your Chattanooga home for all things Skynyrd) isn't quite enough to drag my big ass out of sleepytime with any sort of urgency.
Had to spend three or four hours at the workplace. Which is the best possible way to spend a day off, outside of hemorrhoid surgery.
Wandered out to a local used bookstore. More and more, I think of McKay's Used Books as the Southeastern Headquarters for the Socially Awkward and Maladjusted. Today's lapse into a Flannery O'Connor story was the man in a wheelchair on the mystery paperback aisle yelling for somebody named Steve to come over and help him reach stuff on the top shelf. Since I was nearby, and apparently named Steve, he asked for my help. He wanted to look at all the P.D. James books on the top shelf. I obliged. None were to his liking. He said so with a dismissive wave of his hand. Steve...the Real Steve....showed up then, and took over the P.D. James handling.
I left, but spent the rest of the half-hour at the book store being slowly chased by Steve and his wheelchair-bound friend. This was unfortunate on many levels. Neither man seemed aware of the distinction between inside & outside voices, nor did Steve seem all that aware of a need to bathe. Also, for as often as Steve violated my personal space, he might have had a crush on me.
Which will likely be the subject of a troubling dream or three down the road, now that I've allowed that particular train of thought berth at the Big Stupid Tommy's Brain Station.
Anyway, this has been a go nowhere post. Just trying to wake the hell back up, on a Friday afternoon. Hoping I can sleep tonight. In the middle of writing this post, I traded shiftsfor tomorrow, and now get to pull my ass out of bed (to something besides the soothing southern rock of KZ 1 oh Sucks [did you see what I did there? Funny, right?])
We've wandered into probably the prettiest day in Southeast Tennessee since the late Triassic period. I've taken advantage by taking an hour's nap in a hammock out at my folks' place. My folks are good for a lot of things. Hammocks is one of them. Remember that, my multitude of Tontos: my folks have a hammock.
If I catch you in that hammock, I will hit you with every stick I can find, for the rest of your life, and mine.
There is basketball on the television. Not so that I'd know it, of course. I'd originally planned to take this week off for vacation, but switched. Been a little ill about it for the past couple of days, because as much as I dig other sports more, the energy of the first weekend of the NCAA tournament isn't matched by much for me in the sporting world. Twice in two weeks, I'd made efforts to have short days for Thursday. Last week being the SEC tournament, and this week being the start of the NCAAs. Both days were covered up with woe and disappointment.
(I come by my penchant for the dramatic dishonestly: I stole it from your mother-in-law).
Got to watch a good bit last night, though. Enough to keep me out until 1:15, owing to that Athens is a damn hour from everywhere. Got to see Tennessee stay alive for one more day. (And got to see Ohio University completely destroy a bracket or two, in pools that I am). I'll say that I picked 9/16 right on the first day, making it my worst day, maybe since I've starting picking pools. Still, it's kept me muchly in the middle of the pack, as I think it's a lot of people's worst years....
Re-learned the lesson this morning that the Radio (KZ 106, your Chattanooga home for all things Skynyrd) isn't quite enough to drag my big ass out of sleepytime with any sort of urgency.
Had to spend three or four hours at the workplace. Which is the best possible way to spend a day off, outside of hemorrhoid surgery.
Wandered out to a local used bookstore. More and more, I think of McKay's Used Books as the Southeastern Headquarters for the Socially Awkward and Maladjusted. Today's lapse into a Flannery O'Connor story was the man in a wheelchair on the mystery paperback aisle yelling for somebody named Steve to come over and help him reach stuff on the top shelf. Since I was nearby, and apparently named Steve, he asked for my help. He wanted to look at all the P.D. James books on the top shelf. I obliged. None were to his liking. He said so with a dismissive wave of his hand. Steve...the Real Steve....showed up then, and took over the P.D. James handling.
I left, but spent the rest of the half-hour at the book store being slowly chased by Steve and his wheelchair-bound friend. This was unfortunate on many levels. Neither man seemed aware of the distinction between inside & outside voices, nor did Steve seem all that aware of a need to bathe. Also, for as often as Steve violated my personal space, he might have had a crush on me.
Which will likely be the subject of a troubling dream or three down the road, now that I've allowed that particular train of thought berth at the Big Stupid Tommy's Brain Station.
Anyway, this has been a go nowhere post. Just trying to wake the hell back up, on a Friday afternoon. Hoping I can sleep tonight. In the middle of writing this post, I traded shiftsfor tomorrow, and now get to pull my ass out of bed (to something besides the soothing southern rock of KZ 1 oh Sucks [did you see what I did there? Funny, right?])
posted by Tommy at
15:50
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