Catch Me if You Can

This is a cruddy job. Good thing I have strong arms. Gravity. Jesus, what a concept. On sunny days I have to wear shades. If I lose one in the sun I get docked pay or even suspended. Unending pressure. My cell goes off with another assignment, I hit the gas and speed to the other side of town. One hundred sixty pounds is my limit. Doesn't sound like a lot, but try catching that amount. I got a stiff neck checking out roofs and high rise windows.
I think more people should be medicated, especially during these hard times. The worst period was right after the Madoff scandal broke. I had 14 leapers in one day. My arms and back were killing me. But we have to try and save them, right?
When Oprah cancelled her show it was bad. Same when Julia Roberts married Lyle Lovett.
Oh boy. My cell is vibrating. Just when I was breaking for lunch. Hope this one's not naked.

Underpass

I changed my jogging route and that's when I came across the trolls. They were playing cards in the darkness of the underpass. I suppose I startled them. Not many pedestrians or joggers came by. I'm guessing the authorities don't even know about them. I stopped because I'm a curious sort. There were eight of them. Since they were trolls they didn't take up much space. Squatting was second nature. Traffic sounds from the world above made this enclave seem even farther away from my  existence.
The cards they were using were unfamiliar to me, as was the game. I was very polite in requesting permission to watch. I told them I was a guidance counselor at the local high school, which let out for the summer a week earlier. Everyone was preparing for the Fourth of July. The trolls grunted their permission. Didn't say much throughout the game. Eight seemed like a lot for a card game. They used cinnamon sticks as money.
Only once was there an argument. Actually it was three of them grunting louder and gesticulating with their tiny arms and fingers. I got so wrapped up in the competition it never occurred to me that I was the outsider.
This went on for several days, me ending my jog at the underpass. They spent most of their day playing cards and sleeping. Occasionally, one of them climbed up the wall and frightened drivers. Trolls have responsibilities too. One day I hope they let me play. I can pick up lots of cinnamon sticks at the market. And I think I'm beginning to grasp this game. I was a pretty fair polka player in my day. I'm confident I can hold my own here.
My wife complains I have a funny smell when I return from my jog. I tell her its good old sweat. I don't smell anything different. Who am I to question troll hygiene?

Wimbledon Strategy

Slice to his forehand
Topspin forehand to his backhand
Serve down the middle
Forehand volley at his feet
Backhand overhead angled wide
Drop shot with backspin
Lob directly over his head
Backhand volley angled to corner
Topspin backhand to his backhand
Half volley off toes
Forehand overhead to baseline
Charge at every opportunity
If falling behind
Hold elbow and moan
Medical time out
Sneak peak at coach
Hand signals convey strategy
Change rackets, sneakers, shirt, wristband
Glower
Snort
Hiss

KaBoom

You have to plan your Fourth of July carefully. I attend two parades; one is a baby parade, where parents dress their sweltering kids up in patriotic costumes and make them walk around in a four block circle, possibly scarring them for life.
I shoot from that monstrosity to a regular parade 10 miles away. That event is not as well attended as in the past. Perhaps the three other parades in surrounding towns have something to do with it. Or the heat. Or boredom. I have come to the conclusion that all fire engines and ambulances should be omitted from these spectacles. So should police and EMS workers. They just remind us of tragedy. More jugglers and friendly clowns instead. Not those scary types and you know who I'm referring to.
This evening I will go to the Hudson River and watch Macy's fireworks with nine million others. I'll have to park about a mile away and walk. Finding the exact perfect spot will be difficult. My night vision is limited and I fear tripping over someone's kid or pet. I will get a stiff neck from taking photos of the pyrotechnics and probably will forget where I parked.
In the days when I had sense, I'd just sit home and watch it on TV. But I have a Macy's credit card and I sort of feel obligated to express awe at their costly investment.

Cable Guy Anxiety

I'm waiting for the cable guy to come fix my TV. I swept the floor. Should I mop the bathroom and clean the windows? Certainly I must go over the full length mirrors on my closets, wipe away all the streaks. I made the bed, shaved, put on fresh walking shorts and a pristine white shirt.
I have on WBGO, the jazz station. Cool, but not too cool. I've already thrown out a bag of garbage, cleared away stuff from around the wiring. I know where my surge suppressor is located.
What if he asks me a question I can't answer, like where is your transfer converter box?
I have to move my car so he can park in my space. I want to make sure everything is perfect. I want him to report back to his fellow cable guys that I provided a thoroughly enjoyable experience. I need to stay out of his way. Only speak if spoken to. I don't get many visitors. This cable guy visit is a challenge. If I can host a short visit here, then I might be able to invite friends over at some point without having a nervous episode. What if he asks for soda? I only have water and its too late to hit the store. Why didn't I think of every contingency? The phone is going to ring any second, confirming the appointment.
God, this is nerve wracking. I should have just bought a new TV. Maybe I'll sweep the floor again.

Reboot

Both of my TV sets are out. At the request of the cable rep, I pulled out the plug, waited five seconds, and replugged it. The HOLD icon flashed as I spoke to the rep, who was very friendly. She asked what I was doing for Fourth of July and I told her. I mentioned I was retired and that I had a book published. She asked if it were available on Kindle and I answered in the affirmative. I said you have to prepare for retirement after she revealed a friend's father was lost after 40 years in the PO.
The five minutes were up and the icon still flashed HOLD. She said they'd have to send over a cable guy the next day between 11-2, just when I was going to meet friends. So now I have to stay home waiting.
I wish I could reboot my life. There is something hypnotic about watching that thing flash on and off. At least I still have my computer and phone. I can wave to people outside. I'm going to miss Bunheads tonight on cable. My guilty pleasure. Isn't it mature of me not to lose my temper over something I can't control? And maybe I made a book sale.

Ten Heat Wave Movies

12 Angry, Sweaty Men
Perspire Under the Elms
Die Hot
The Agony and The Ecstacy and the Right Guard
To Steam a Mockingbird
Little Sweltering Women
Arm Pit Jungle
Harry Potter and the Rivulets of Sweat
Dirty Smelly Harry
The Spy Who Came in from the Humidity