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It's been a while since I've done this. It wouldn't hurt to check the SOP. Do things by the book, so to speak.
It wouldn't do to get gigged on a technicality.
The routine cases get farmed out to the new kids these days. Once in a great while, though, there's a high-visibility project. That's where yours truly comes in.
Sports legend, at the stadium, with the scythe.
Damn I'm good.
At the top of my game, so to speak.
Ah, sweet moment of solitude! I'm sure it's not possible for me to be as grateful for this moment as Zeline and Elizabeth were to have the first showers in four generations. Nonetheless, I am grateful.
Moments alone are scarce, with seven of us in the house.
Not to mention the occasional ghost. There are nine that I know of.
We've had birthdays galore lately. Absalon's 21st...
Eyvin's thirteenth...
Jody's 65th...
And Bjarne's...
And mine; we won't mention numbers on that one.
And now our household is about to grow. Absalon is to marry Marcia. Yes, that Marcia, the one I've been sending home for the last fifteen years.
It isn't easy to accept her, try as I might. She has a conniving way about her that I fear will make Absalon unhappy in the long run.
This is in addition to an abrasive manner that makes her difficult to like.
If Absalon is happy, that's the important thing. I pray that I'm wrong about what will and won't make him happy. I remember how warmly Mamma Zeline welcomed Jody and me to the family; she's a tough act to follow.
As for Eyvin, Jody should have been more careful what she wished for. Eyvin has learned to focus. Her name is Jeri.
Yes, I suppose I have become a grouch in my old age. With Harald's achievements in conquering the muscular atrophy and physical malaise that's plagued the last few generations, and Bjarne's in ending the rationing of all manner of things, and Jody's electronics work coming to fruition any time now, it's hard not to ask "Where's mine?"
For decades I've expounded economic justice from my bully pulpit. Not only is upgrading working conditions in Sunset Vally the right thing to do; it's the sensible thing to do. The gains in productivity in the years before the disaster would not have been possible without the gains for labour in the previous century.
Meanwhile, here and now, our labour laws have not improved in over two centuries. They remain as draconian as in the days of martial law. There is no minimum wage, no eight hour workday, no overtime pay, no family or medical leave, no disability pay and no retirement benefit. Of course any attempt to unionise and remedy these circumstances meets with violence at the hands of the Alto stooges.
