Then that Virgo dude

First it’s a “7–11” date then a “Friday the Thirteenth.” Then that Virgo dude called me to give me the news: “Travelers’ advisory for Las Vegas — 106 degrees yesterday.” [And no, I’m not getting married in Las Vegas!] What a day to be traveling. But, persistence, hard work, and lots of early morning phone calls paid off. “No, it’s NOT an Airstream trailer, but it looks like one, got that?” I got my package, no thanks to the local delivery guy. Less than 24 hours to go from California to Indiana, then to Austin’s airport. More than 72 hours to go from the “management’s office” to my trailer. More than 3,000 miles in less than 24 hours, more than 72 hours to go less than 300 meters. Ain’t technology grand? I’m thinking that a real Pony Express might be more marketable and more reliable. I had lunch at Threadgill’s, dinner at Magnolia, and a long, meandering wander home from the Mag. I detoured on a jaunt which took me through some woods, and along a dry creek bed. I’ve been meaning to note the song of the cicadas at night, in the twilight, but no time was it more pronounced than at dusk.