They found their way to Wharton, thirsty. Until now, apparently largely due to the drought, that’s the one insect we’d been spared.
I’m hoping they drift on over to Austin where the bats under the bridge are decreasing in number, which is affecting tourism.
If you think you are too small to be effective, you have never been in bed with a mosquito. ~ Betty Reese
I’m a bit under it again (the weather, not the bed – that’s where the mouse is). It’s not a good thing to be under the weather when you’re a gate guard at night if under it means frequent restroom visits. As before mentioned and attested to by other gate guards, a nocturnal trip to the restroom is guaranteed to ring bells.
I thought I was safe because there’s no moon at all – we’re in the zero moon phase. Maybe the moon and the tides are impacted in reverse in Texas? It’s been a moonless full moon kind of night and it’s only 1 a.m.
First the bells were rung by an older man, dressed for a date (who was with him), soaked in cologne, which still failed to cover the smell of alcohol. He said he was here to pick up a mug (I think he meant mud) logging truck. He held up traffic for a good while, looking for the cigarette he dropped somewhere inside his truck. I got a flashlight but to no avail. His lady friend took this all in stride.
He finally decided to just let it burn itself out. Hmm… He did another check of his paper work to make sure he was in the right spot and went on in. I was contemplating another trip to the restroom when he came back out, wrong rig indeed. He didn’t want directions. He said it was too dark to drive anyway.
I had just ventured back toward the restroom when the bells began ringing and ringing and ringing. A semi driver had parked on the air hose, which didn’t alarm him at all. I don’t think he could hear the ringing over his diesel and his iPod. He was nice about moving when he finally heard me knocking.
I took another long look at the night sky, now filled with stars but abandoned by the moon.
This time I was only considering a trip upstairs when Lacey from Lafayette Louisiana arrived, exhausted, after driving for 15 hours down back roads. As I filled her coffee mug she told me she’d been given directions approaching the rig from west Texas (which would be a very round about way to get here from Louisiana). She said the back roads were so dark… Yep, no moon.
She also said, while she was lost in the panhandle she heard that it’s supposed to snow there tomorrow. It was 90 here yesterday. The forecast for tomorrow is a high of 66. I’m not complaining. I like the cool temperatures, but do you see what I mean? These things didn’t happen when the moon was doing her job.
Finally, the coast seemed to be clear. Just as I entered the restroom, removed Heidi’s baby booster from the foot pedal and seated myself, a mouse ran in from the bedroom, took one look at me, and headed back under the bed (as far as I could tell, after waking up Heidi while I did a pre-Halloween sweep around the bedroom with a broom). I guess the past two nights of under-the-sink-quiet were misleading.
I don’t know why since I’m certain it will want out as soon as I put it in, but I feel compelled by hunger and the blackness of the night to pursue this misguided course of action.
I miss the moon.
Night’s black Mantle covers all alike. ~Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas