It’s pouring rain here, so I have extended drive time to observe and ponder the cars, habits, and (imaginary) lives of others. This morning, I had the great fortune to be right behind a large pick-up truck as traffic crawled through the first tunnel of my commute. (Yes, I drive through two tunnels, twice a day, every work day.) This particular truck looked new and shiny and sported a trailer hitch that would rip my bumper right off if my car so much as kissed it.The tail-gate was taller than my car. The windows were tinted so I couldn’t really see any traffic beyond the huge side mirrors of the rolling behemoth. Now the only reason I reason that I remember so much about this vehicle is because when I sounded out the personalized license plate, I read “Londontown”.
Londontown? On a Ford F-150? Well, naturally, because nothing says “Cheerio” like a big-ass truck. Does the locked tool-box contain an emergency tea set? If the tunnel back up gets worse, can we pause for some crumpets or scones? Maybe he’s on his way to Arizona to working on that falling down bridge? Is he a Clash fan?
Well, I indulged all my theories until the freeway merge split us apart. Until next time, Mr. Londontown. I like your plate better than the “6Satan6” who apparently lives a couple of blocks from me. I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t serve crumpets.
My husband’s voice called from the dining room, “I think we have a dead fish”. Aside from the yuck and awwwww factor, that meant we had just one fish remaining: an 18 year old, five inch long, super-grouchy Clown Loach. We’ve had only Clown Loaches in the tank for a few years now because we got tired of seeing all their companions slowly disappear. I know, I know, Clown Loaches are supposed to be good companion fish, not aggressive, blah, blah, blah. Still, the evidence, or missing evidence, in our aquarium convinced us that our big old loaches should be a colony of three for a while. Then two. Then today, just one–the oldest fish we have, the one who survived the thermostat malfunction of 1999 when all his companions boiled to death. Hmmm, maybe he sabotaged the thermostat. He’s that kind of fish.
Yes, loach has been over-indulged during his lifetime, but that ends today! He does not get a forty-gallon aquarium to himself. We’ve gone out on a limb and purchased new fish for the tank. Three Congo Tetras are currently sitting in their plastic bag inside the aquarium, hoping like we are, that they won’t be the next victims of Grumpy Fish. If they survive the next few weeks, we’ll try some more: maybe a little Red-Tail shark or some beautiful Pearl Gourami. Cross your fingers for us (and the tetras) that our loach takes this offering of frozen worms and leaves the smaller fish alone.