Mood:
quizzicalTopic: "Rain, Rain, Go Away?"(4)
It is no secret that the Shire has been experiencing drought conditions for quite some time, in fact the reservoir lake levels are lower now than they were at the same point in time last year. Frodo has been unable to wash his motorcar as an act of physical exertion on a Saturday morning for more than a year. Should he be so tempted, the "water police" are on constant patrol, moreso even than those who search for illegal immigrants plucking feathers from chickens. Frodo usually takes his motorcar to an authorized car wash, supposedly using recycled water, and pays about $6 just to remove road grime. Today however, it is raining and Frodo is watching the cold drizzle that will prevent anything but brief excursions out-of-doors to meet the natural needs of the canine contingent.
It is also the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and that means football, all day long, piped directly into the area adjacent to Frodo's favorite sofa. It would seem that a day of rest, accompanied by mindless concentration on insignificant events, would be just what the doctor would order for the stressful life of the Hobbit. No thought given to terrorists, fundamentalists, Texans, the stock market, Sarah Palin, or relational intrigue of any kind. Concentrate only on the formation of a ham sandwich, a few chips, an apple for good measure, and a draft light when time-outs aver the opportunity.
So why is Frodo blue?
If the sun were shining, then Frodo would miss all the relaxation, and would wreak havoc on his lumbar region by removing every single leaf from the grounds of the Shire. He would toss the tennis ball for hours on end to the one who snoozes upon his socks this very moment. He would wash $6 down a drainpipe. He would scout for "Saxby" signs that could be turned away from the view of those who might be encouraged to vote for one who has done nothing save an improvement to his golf score in the past six years. At the end of the day he would watch videotape of the games he had missed, eat a ham sandwich, and drink that beer.
It is the loss of choice that befuddles Frodo. Instead of taking full advantage, he begins to contemplate the tasks undone. The kerosene heater that makes the Florida room toasty all winter needs cleaning, if not now, then a week or so after Sam begins haranguing him for not previously having done so. On-line correspondence to a plethora of long ago visited friends in faraway locations has reached epidemic proportions. Business research on prospective clients resting too long undone provides only fodder to potential competitors. There is, also, the disaster known as a garage which houses so many unused items that the Salvation Army would make multiple house calls, if so summoned.
Decision-making should be avoided on certain days, that is for sure. On this day, Frodo will be wisest if he worries only about the point spread in Athens, then to a turning of his attention to Phil Fulmer's final game in Knoxville. That should bring him to the point of sandwich construction.
