Thursday June 27th 2013 Tim Candler
Two wise men arrived in a vehicle that was roughly
the size of a Mail Order Fulfillment Center. How it managed the
lane I am not really certain. Where the lane turns, a rear wheel spun a
little upon grass that was wet from last night's nasty storms, which in
the dark hours had produced fanfare with radar indicated tornado to our
west, and an eighth inch of rain for us here. To the south there were
trees downed, I was told. "A big mess in parts of town," I was told.
And one of the wise men hadn't heard a thing, he'd slept peacefully
through it all.
When they were gone I maintained
calm while performing the leveling, water hookup, venting and
electrical duties. None of which the wise men were permitted to do owing to
constraints upon them by a mid level region of the Angelic Host called the
Legal Department. For a good while I thought last night's storm might
have robbed us of a single electric circuit, because that's been known to
cause confusion and a great deal of anxiety. But the cause of my inability
to turn the device on was nothing so ordinary. Somewhere in the past
fourteen or fifteen years the Almighty in his wisdom has re-conceptualized
the "On Switch" for machines that wash clothes.