Woke up on my free Friday with a sense of dread. I could only lay there hating today, wishing I’d gone to work. It’s like I’m facing the gallows.
I guess it goes without saying that I hate hosting ops.
I’m like an actor who has performed King Lear hundreds of times but still gets hysterical before the curtain goes up.
I read of model railroader hosts who do a little set up, a little tinkering, and eagerly await their operators. Me? I just sit and slowly freak out.
And it’s such a tempest in a teacup. After my shower, I started working at 9:30am. By 11:20am, I was done with the lower and middle decks (which have most of the engines). Other than a steam engine that needed a bit of coaxing to get it running (perhaps corrosion somewhere?), I got it all working.
Tomorrow I’ll spend another hour or so fixing up San Luis Obispo (six engines to clean, and some dusting). Then I’ll work the paperwork and test my computerized dispatcher.
So why am I climbing trees to get ready for ops?
Behind me, silent ranks of trains wait in Watsonville, ready to roll out.
Watch for the opslog.