Found’em . . .

Well, today was a little quieter on the gate than yesterday, with only 119 vehicles coming through, against yesterday’s 130.  Of course, that really means 238 vehicles, counting coming in and going out. But they’ve been bringing in house trailers for the new well, so we’ll be having people staying over pretty soon.

Another gate guard company is looking for a couple for a gate near Bristol, TX, about 30 miles southeast of Dallas. It pays $200 a day, which sounds great until you get to the kicker.

It’s a 600 vehicle a day gate!

So let’s see. $50 more a day than our $150, and you get to quadruple your work load. Sounds like a great deal to me. I wonder why they’re having trouble finding anyone?

In other news, I found my set of longer cables for the satellite dome, so Jan has TV again. The cables were right where I left them, but not where I remember leaving them. That seems to happen a lot lately. But the real culprit is the fact that before we left Houston I went through and reorganized all the basement bins in a logical fashion.

But apparently, what was logical then is not quite so logical now. That’s what I get for tidying things up.

Unlike a lot of gate guard couples, Jan and I don’t work 12 hour shifts. We find it much easier to split it up.

Jan works from 7am to 2pm, and brings out something for breakfast that we eat together. I’m scheduled come back at 2pm, but usually it’s earlier and I bring out coffee.

So I work from 2pm to 6pm, and Jan brings out supper that we eat together. Jan then works from 6pm to 11pm, and I work from 11pm to 7am.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

So Jan works a 7 hour shift and a 5 hour shift, and I work an 8 and a 4. Works for us.

Today was a sad day. Dinner finished off the last of the Sonny’s BBQ we got in Pensacola, FL while we were staying at Gulf Shores, AL about a month ago. We went there twice and always bought extra to freeze.

But on a bright note, there’s a Rudy’s over in College Station, not too far away.

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Thought for the Day:

I base my fashion taste on what doesn’t itch. — Gilda Radner

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