George was burnt out on his job as a lineman. Here he was again for the 3rd time this afternoon, trying to restore power for the privileged piss-ants who live out there in the exurbs, in the middle of the frickin forest. I’m tired of their complaining about power outages. They damn moved out here, he thought. What did they expect? You got trees everywhere. Big ones. You got wind all of the time. What the hell do they expect will happen?
Olympic Big Leaf Maples are the worst. Widowmakers. Those huge hardwood limbs that don’t bend but break every time. And almost every time they come down on the power lines. The fir and the cedar and the hemlock all sway with the wind. It’s rare that an evergreen will bring down the power unless the whole tree comes down with the snow and ice, but we’re at the beginning of summer and instead of enjoying barbecue at home I’m up in the damn cherry picker trimming their trees.
George felt like life was cleaning up other people’s messes. Yeah, he had his own messes. He knew that. He knew it was easier to complain about other people’s problems. He was just not happy about being out in the cherry picker at nine PM on a perfect Pacific Northwest Summer evening working on a long stretch of line brought down by the local Big Leafe Maples. He had thought those trees pure evil and then one night he heard Santana say that Olympic Big Leaf Maple was the only tree he would ever think about using to make a guitar. They were gold to him. That really made me stop and think. The Olympic Big Leaf Maples are actually good for something other than causing him pain.
The no nothings down at HQ have promised the piss ants that they would get their power back by 10 PM. They all wanted to cook their meals, watch their TV and see Trump do his second perp walk, and they wanted to flush their toilets. No water when there is no power out in the exurbs where they use their own wells and pumps. He got it. He just didn’t know if there were enough resources to finish a job this size by 10 PM, He also knew that there would be hell to pay if it didn’t happen.
They didn’t even give him a chance to call his wife before then sent him out here where the cel reception sucks. He knew by this time, he was already in trouble back home. Heather probably wouldn't even believe him because one frigging night he went out to the bar without letting her know. Ever since then their communication lines had been down and George felt like he didn’t have the right tools to put them back in place. The bad news was that he didn’t have anyone to complain to about that except himself, and the big leaf maples, of course. He wondered if Heather liked Santana.....
— DanielSouthGate
Olympic Big Leaf Maples are the worst. Widowmakers. Those huge hardwood limbs that don’t bend but break every time. And almost every time they come down on the power lines. The fir and the cedar and the hemlock all sway with the wind. It’s rare that an evergreen will bring down the power unless the whole tree comes down with the snow and ice, but we’re at the beginning of summer and instead of enjoying barbecue at home I’m up in the damn cherry picker trimming their trees.
George felt like life was cleaning up other people’s messes. Yeah, he had his own messes. He knew that. He knew it was easier to complain about other people’s problems. He was just not happy about being out in the cherry picker at nine PM on a perfect Pacific Northwest Summer evening working on a long stretch of line brought down by the local Big Leafe Maples. He had thought those trees pure evil and then one night he heard Santana say that Olympic Big Leaf Maple was the only tree he would ever think about using to make a guitar. They were gold to him. That really made me stop and think. The Olympic Big Leaf Maples are actually good for something other than causing him pain.
The no nothings down at HQ have promised the piss ants that they would get their power back by 10 PM. They all wanted to cook their meals, watch their TV and see Trump do his second perp walk, and they wanted to flush their toilets. No water when there is no power out in the exurbs where they use their own wells and pumps. He got it. He just didn’t know if there were enough resources to finish a job this size by 10 PM, He also knew that there would be hell to pay if it didn’t happen.
They didn’t even give him a chance to call his wife before then sent him out here where the cel reception sucks. He knew by this time, he was already in trouble back home. Heather probably wouldn't even believe him because one frigging night he went out to the bar without letting her know. Ever since then their communication lines had been down and George felt like he didn’t have the right tools to put them back in place. The bad news was that he didn’t have anyone to complain to about that except himself, and the big leaf maples, of course. He wondered if Heather liked Santana.....
— DanielSouthGate
Love the Santana connection.
ReplyDeleteYou are an excellent storyteller.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is great: "Ever since then their communication lines had been down and George felt like he didn’t have the right tools to put them back in place." Perfect analogy that just slipped into place! Also, I think I know the source of "George." He has good taste in music, yeah. Enjoyed this one immensely. --- Macoff
ReplyDelete