Monday, August 31
After work, we drift over from the shop to 3’s and order Bud in bottles. There’re sports on the TV. We talk shit about football, baseball, and programming. We are knowledgeable of, perhaps, one of these subjects. I lament init systems. We sing the endless song of hate for XML. We agree that CSV isn’t so bad as all that. We have a second beer.
It has recently rained, and by early evening it’ll turn towards gray and cool. Driving home with the sun going down all blue-white behind the clouds and Long’s Peak, I cycle between suddenly-terrible local radio and the bad reception on my CB.
People are yelling idiotically at each on channel 6, like usual, but this time I can’t make out any of it at all. The other day I listened to some guys talk for an hour on 18 about buying a house, in near perfect clarity but interlaced with bursts of fuzzed out Spanish where I could never quite tell if they were part of the same conversation or just cross-talk.
“That fuckin' driveway an' shit, you know?”
Some days are good for CB reception, at least relatively. You’ll get stuff bouncing in from all over. Or maybe it’s just some days there are more people on the radio. I think about installing better hardware. I wonder if that would make any difference with the reception. I think about owning a house.