Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night: Lousy Smarch Weather Edition

So, it snowed yesterday. And I didn't have to work. So, when the big wet flakes started falling, my ass got out and drove around in it. I wandered out toward Meigs County, and down Highway 58 until I cut over through Georgetown into Cleveland. I then came back up through Riceville, and back to my house. I'd say all told, we got a couple of inches of fun, sticky wet snow that looked pretty on the trees and covered up all the yellow for a while.

Here, I'd like to say Behold the Power of Social Media. I was taking a small break when I saw on Twitter that Hamilton County schools were closing up for the day. I took a minute to text my sister, who teaches there, "Why the hell'd they even make you get your ass out of bed?"

It wasn't until a couple minutes later that she got the word that her school was closing for the day. Behold.

Then, after writing some more, I looked outside three hours later, and damned if the snow weren't 90% melted away by that point.

Lousy Smarch Weather.

I was going to say: Is there anything worse that Vacation Insomnia, and I suppose there is. Widespread Famine is worse that Vacation Insomnia. Having a sneeze caught in your head is probably worse. War. Lady Gaga. Insomnia on a day when you have to be up to do something. In fact, there's probably not a lot that isn't worse than Vacation Insomnia.

There is comfort in knowing that, not having anyplace specifically to be until 8 PM tomorrow, I could sleep until then, if I wanted.

There was a vaguely bad dream I woke up from. I couldn't tell you what it concerned or even why I called it bad. I can remember only walking through a mostly deserted down near the coast. My brain wants to call it a city, even, like Savannah or Charleston, SC. But beyond that, I don't know. I just know it had a little bit of darkness around it that helped keep me from falling immediately asleep. Kind of like it was the Booger Man, waiting in the shadows for me to wander back into sleep.

I figure the Booger Man isn't all that different from Gary Busey. It may be Gary Busey. Slobbering, and grabby.

So, I am on vacation.

I'd intended this to be a writing vacation, as I wanted to complete one particular project to hand off to a couple people to read. In rough estimation, I figured I had maybe 15,000 words left to write. I managed 2,500 on Saturday, but only 800 on Sunday. Another 2500 on Monday, with 1200 or so yesterday. So, I guess I'm near where I want to be. In the process of finishing a booger of a story up.

So, that's alright, I guess.

So, we play this stupid little trivia game, right? Chattanooga Trivia is a loosely banded set of games at various establishments in the greater Chattanooga area. We play regularly in Cleveland, with friends and co-workers. Occasionally, I'll wander down into the bigger part of Chattanooga. My sister and brother-in-law live down that way, and we've grown to like the game at the Riverhouse Pub. Part of it is that it's not a game that we are in contention to win, generally. There are a couple Very strong teams, and the sad fact is, my brother-in-law's trivial knowledge and mine are usually overlapping in too many areas, and deficient in too many of the same. So, we like playing there for the challenge of it.

Part of it is the atmosphere of the place. It is its own place, with no corporate mandate on how to set up, and it's laid back. The two things don't go hand-in-hand too much. Too often, in this neck of the woods, you can't go someplace for a beer without there wanting to be some jackass trying to get loud and rowdy, and the only way to keep that crowd out is to build a family atmosphere. It's hard to find that happy medium, but River House is close to finding it.

River House is the kind of place I'd like to think I'd open, were I to open a bar.

(I would like to note that despite my claim to its laidbackness, there's some damage to the paneling in the men's room. It is partly missing, and looks like somebody's put a shoulder into it, between the support beams. Somebody has taken a pen and written something along the lines of "Goddamn drunks damaging shit." To which somebody else has written "In my defense, the wall was damaged for educationsl purposes." That was enough to make me smile when I took my piss.)

So, my brother-in-law and I played. We didn't play all that well, talking ourselves out of answering Jerry Rice for one football question, and for the location of the Uncle Remus Museum (it is in Georgia, folks, not Mississippi). We also blanked completely on Remulac, which is of course the home planet of Beldar Conehead and family. I would like to say here, that the fact that most of us drink while we play the game has something to do with blanking of answers. It is easier with more people. Rarely are the questions rocket science, and a lot of the answers are right on the tip of your tongue...and somebody else's. If you have a body or three there to help remember, the game goes more smoothly. Still, with just two of us, we snatched up a win with the final question. So, there's a bar tab waiting on us, the next time we should head back that way.

I would like to take a moment to remind you that often times, these Ass End of the Night posts are designed simply as a mental dump, a means to burn off any excess brainial junk going on. The idea is that I write junk so that my noggin will stop thinking and get back to the business of slumbering. For God's sake, I need all the Beauty Sleep my ass can get. Have you seen me? I'm starting to look like Ernest Borgnine if he got his ass whipped for laughing at Bea Arthur's Doc Martens. So, suffice it to say once again: Welcome to my Online Nerd Diary, and Thankee for your indulgence.