Oh, you guys. I don't even want to report that the Husky is on the blink. For some reason, when it ran out of gas this morning, it would not re-start. The motor seems close to turning over, but just won't catch for some reason (yes, it has oil). It's to the point where we're reading the instruction manual; I grabbed the stack of papers that came with the machine and read a few paragraphs about the celestial equator before realizing my Astronomy homework had accidentally gotten mingled with the Husky papers. It's a damn good thing the celestial equator isn't really a factor in the Husky's performance; I was feeling extra special f!cked there for a minute. Especially since--let's review--the celestial equator is imaginary.
An hour or so after the Husky debacle began, Jackson Purchase Electric trucks began whizzing down my street (first one then two--then THREE) and a crew is clearly working not two houses away. I've also received an e-mail communication from a friend and reader that has given me further reason to retrieve my dust-covered sack of hope from an obscure storage bin labeled "Sh!t you really don't need" deep in my psyche.