The short bus is coming along nicely. I can’t wait to see it in action. It keeps triggering these visions of a veggie fueled caravan with a dedicated fuel pickup truck so the systems can be separate from the living quarters, and attached to a more maneuverable vehicle. Sadly, I don’t think I’d be able to convince enough people to dedicate the time and resources such a project demands. I’m not sure I could.
Census work plods onwards, though some of my enumerators are starting to jump ship. One greets me as I walk in the door with a smile and “I quit.” “OK, I just need you to write that down so they don’t have to take my word for it.” He begins to write, and after a moment shows me the note: ‘I quit.’ “Good, but you should probably date it.” A moment later: ‘I quit today.’ “Could you make it sound more official?” He thinks for a second, and sets to writing again. When my attention returns to the note he is holding out for me, I read, ‘I quit today, the first day of the six month of the two-thousand and tenth year of our lord.’ “Good, they’ll like that.”
I’m told there is another operation after this one, and I’m in a position to stay on board (or even advance). There is one sticking point of a week where I’ll be away at Grey Fox…I’m not sure whether that will be an issue or not. And I’m not sure about how long this current operation will go on for, and whether the short bus (henceforth referred to by its Christian name, Caesar Rodney) will set off before the Census decides that it is tired and going home. Joe Hollay has said that he will be onboard this time around, which is a huge incentive to get my ass on the bus. Or on my bus. Ass and bus must meet.