For hours the sirens have wailed in Longwood, Florida. There they go again, more urgently this time. Hours ago I assumed Santa Claus was hurling candy to kids at curbside from the back of a fire truck, but the six o’clock news told me differently. Seems a freight train had croaked right in the middle of town while its tentacles wrapped around major (aren’t they all) intersections. I suspect every Barney Fife has been issued his bullet from the sound of police sirens. Okay, it’s calmed down a little, only sound is one police siren. How nice to be tucked away in our office, not out in the Christmas shopping fray.
Okay, now I hear the horns saying, “Damn it! Get that f****ing iron horse back to the reservation.” But it’s nice here back to back with my husband communing with the world beyond Longwood. Except we’re getting a little tired of all the urgent screeching. Get the fricking train off the fricking track! Oh, the humanity!
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