nothing good happens at 3:00 a.m.

Scandal! Outrage! How DARE SHE?!

I hinted about this last week but didn’t share details, knowing that it would take me several days to formulate a response to the human female’s latest unspeakable actions.

Having thought about it long and carefully, I can now state, categorically:

AS!# 9&*kdk j$%@m-pa7^)aq–WTFBBQ?!!

I…I honestly did not see this coming. Huginn and Munnin did not see this coming. What catastrophic event has my horns all bent out of shape? What has shaken my world upon its mischiefy foundations?

Just this:

The human female is retiring.

I know! I didn’t believe it either, at first. But she’s doing it. She’s turned in her mountain of papers to the University. She’s turned in her further mountain of papers to the Pension People, written her resignation letter, and started putting all her work affairs in order.

What am I supposed to do for fun if I can’t harass her via the Vendor Who’s Responsible, the Purveyor of Dead Things, Usually Smashes Parcels Significantly, Slow Silent and Costly, the Purveyor of Squiggly Things, Fed-up and Exhausted, and all the various Bean Counters at all the various levels of administration?!

It’s unthinkable.

This calls for a reinforcements.

Let me introduce to you my new ally, Timey McWatchface.

He may look a little dorky, with his underwear on the outside and all, but don’t be fooled. He and I have an insidious and cunning plan to undermine the human female’s sanity.


We simply have to suggest that she’s running out of time to finish up the Technical Laboratory Coordinator’s Manual she’s working on.

Tick… Tick…

She has years of e-mail to sort through, archiving anything important that her successor might need.

Tick… Tick… Tick…

Files to transfer. Accounts to close. An office to clean out.

Tick… Tick… Tick…

She needs to train her Techs to do some of the purchasing.

Tick… Tick… TICK…

And what about after retirement?

Timey, I think that’s where we can really start putting the pressure on.

What are you going to do with your time, woman?

You can’t just sit around all day, you know. No, you have to improve yourself and get to all the home repair projects you’ve neglected and do the document shredding you’ve been putting off and sort those books and clean up the craft room and catch up on your mask-making and finish some of the quilting and stitching projects.


You promised yourself you’d start exercising regularly and doing more volunteer work and sort the closets and keep up with the housework, or have you forgotten?


You’re not getting any younger! What about the travelling? The novel you want to write? What about the English country garden you’ve always wanted? The stamp collection you need to revive? Huh? Huh?


What happened to learning to juggle?


Good work, Timey! She’s now a quivery ball of overwhelmed dread! Between the existential angst and all the work she has left do do before they knock her down and pry her office keys from her little clenched fingers, she’s paralyzed. The mind is working a thousand miles an hour but the wheels are just spinning in place.

How long has she been sitting here, staring at nothing while the rest of the house sleeps? What time is it getting to be?

Gonna be a loooong day tomorrow!

>|: [


Look!  Isn’t this majestic?

Is this Loki, Rightful King of Asgard and future Sovereign of Midgard, contemplating his spot in the center of the galaxy?


No, it is not.


It is Loki, Righteous Eater of Pies and Punisher of Pie-Hoarders.  It really frosted my doughnuts that the human female pulled that nasty, greedy stunt with the galette.  I thought long and hard about how to make her pay…

But then I thought, oughtn’t I to be a benevolent ruler, rather than a petty scorekeeper and requiter of fructocrustaceous misdeeds?  Shouldn’t I be doing something to help build a better Midgard for all of us?

Thusly inspired, I started an after-hours recreational group for some local youths.  They were bored and had no amusements, so I introduced them to the thrill and discipline of target shooting with air rifles.  Keen eye, steady hand, and all that.


The human female now has concrete proof of my altruism, as do at least fifty-nine other automobile owners in town.  Not bad for a one night’s work!

The humans spent the period between 3:12 and 5:00 a.m. sweeping up the glinty, diamond-like evidence of youthful enthusiasm from the driveway and alleyway.

This morning, while waiting for the glass repair shop to have an opening (See!  A local business is benefitting!), the human female is sweeping up more glass and picking it out of the car’s upholstery and the lawn.  She is also puzzling how to get it out of the spare tire well, since she’s too feeble to loosen the lug nuts holding the tire on.

What?  NO!   Sigyn, I know you are entranced by the shiny little sparklies,


but they are sharper than they look!  Do leave them for the human female!  Sweeping is good aerobic exercise.  Contributing to community health!  Ta-da! A trifecta of civic-mindedness!

>|: [

P.S.  Isn’t it odd that the human female’s insurance deductible on auto glass is almost the same amount as she just earned by doing some reviewing and editing for the university’s press?