Bustin' it up

On my way to work this morning, I was two cars behind a truck hauling a wagon load of square hay bales. From my viewpoint, they appeared to be pretty tightly and carefully secured, and though the truck's bed was also filled with hay, the bales weren't stacked very high. The driver must have hit a bump particularly hard, because before I knew it, I was smack dab in the middle of a hay tornado. These three bales came flying off of the wagon, landing in the road. I was able to swerve ever-so-slightly and miss them, but this ginormous Chevy Suburban in the other lane was unfortunate enough to be traveling down Route 2 at the precise time these bales broke orbit. The Chevy's grill hit one of those bales perfectly, busting it into smithereens. Ker-pow!

It was glorious.

No one was hurt. I mean, it was hay. Old people used to stuff their mattresses with that stuff. I'm not sure why, but witnessing that small event was fantastic for me. Perhaps because it was an accurate reflection of my mood. Some bustin' up of things would do me good right about now. Oh, there's nothing in particular going on, just one of those non-"that-time-of-the-month" hormonal upheavals I'm prone to from time to time.

At least things went well at work. Tuesdays are always hella hectic, as we put the paper to press every Tuesday. We're usually about three hours behind, but today we finished an hour early, and we were fortunate enough to avoid any delays with the printing process. It's kind of weird to be home on a Tuesday evening.

Alas, I'm not going to be home for long. Steve got a really awesome promotion at work and his boss is taking us out for a celebratory dinner. It's nice and all, and Steve definitely deserves it. (I'm so proud of him!) I'm glad he's getting the recognition for his work. He's really good at what he does. Anyway, the trouble is that I'll be at dinner with Steve, his boss, and two other old farts. What in the world am I supposed to talk about? They're going to talk turbines, business, golf and hunting all night. How am I supposed to contribute? Here's how I perceive the night panning out:

Old fart #1: Well, yes, I had a fantastic time last fall in Montana hunting buffalo. I have a head mounted on my wall.
Old fart #2: I've always wanted a big dead animal head on my wall. I'm thinking of taking a trip to Canada to shoot an abominal snowman. You know they say those things actually exist.
Steve: (nodding head) When I lived in North Dakota ... (Many of his stories start out like this)
Me: There's this old lady named Edith in Sistersville who looks like a burn victim who came into the office today with a pornographic greeting card ...
Old farts 1 and 2 and Steve: (blank stares)
Old fart 3: Snort!

So, depending on how badly I embarrass Steve tonight, I may need a place to crash. Call me if ya got a couch to spare.