Mike, for once, is out reporting and I, for once, am sitting on my butt in the newsroom. It's kind of nice doing nothing but rewrite. You know, getting fed quotes, reporting by telephone only.
The first week of reporting after the storm was an experience unto itself. No phone, hardly any internet. 2 p.m. deadlines. I'd have to wake up at 5:30 to get a story done in time. Thank goodness that is over.
By the second week, phones were back. It's a truly unreal experience, not being able to call a story in and rushing back for deadline on bad roads while running out of gas.
Now that phones are back, I have definitely been volunteering myself for more rewrite jobs and phone reporting stuff. Ah, the life. I figured my farmer's tan is bad enough.
As for personal dribble, well, I eat a lot of tuna fish. I've eaten 90 percent of meals in the SunHerald's break room, which is stocked with canned goods of all kinds, mountains of white bread, cases of peanut butter and jelly, granola bars, water, Chex Mix, and other delightful deliciousnesses. I like spam, and don't think it smells like urine, but I prefer to eat tuna daily. I also eat a lot of granola bars and apples, when we get them. Alright, that is all a lie. I eat of lot of those Peanut Butter cracker things that come prepackaged and Chex Mix.
The best meal I've had since this started was a steak that Mike cooked up on his grill. I made some rice and green beans with Zatarain's Creole Seasoning. (I hope that'll still be available for a while.) Had some yams too. MMMM-MMMM.
Mike has generously allowed me to make a copy of his aparment key and sleep on a futon in his living room indefinitely. I can sleep in my apartment - the mold is gone after a thorough cleaning - but there is some strange alarm going off downstairs that is maddening. To be precise about my living situation: the building itself is okay. The downstairs apartments were flooded with mud and water, but the upstairs where I live did okay. All of my material possessions made it. The people downstairs were not so lucky. Their places are rotting away too.
The landlady has turned off the water and the electricity could not be turned back on because of all the water there was in the apartment complex. She has strongly suggested all renters get out but has not demanded it. Of the 30+ people that lived there originally, I and one or two families are the only ones who have not packed and fled.
I have taken all my important stuff (photos, papers, etc.) and brought them to Kellers. The rest is replaceable and I am slowly working on repacking it.
Transitions always bring on dramatic mood swings. And the daunting task of having to pack and move out of a place I liked a lot - actually, it was my favorite dwelling ever - is certainly not exciting.
And I digress.
No news really otherwise. To sum: I'm staying with Mike in his infinite kindness indefinitely and using my place as storage until I officially get the boot from there.
Wow, this is a long one. If you read to here, thanks! I'd probably have stopped by now.
Oh, and if you are curious about what we're writing about, go to our employer's website linked ot the right. Mike's byline is "Mike Keller". Mine is "Joshua Norman" but they sometimes scrwe that up and call it "Josh Norman." NB: the reason I didn't want to be just "Josh" in my byline is that there is a tight-end in the NFL named Josh Norman who got a lot of attention in the last few years, as well as some strange preacher from the midwest with the same name.