Least favorite reference question: "What kind of fluid is this on the keyboard? It looks like drool."
It was not drool.
Also yesterday
"Where are the nearest fallout shelters? We are visiting from California, and I work with the DOD, so I know where to go over there, but we have a baby so we want to stay safe."
"Weeeeell, we don't actually have any fallout shelters. But don't worry, you'd only have 8-12 minutes lead time, so there wouldn't be time to get to a shelter anyway!"
I did not tell him about the cast iron tub in my garage, because it's already going to be a tight fit under there with all the kids and cats and chickens.
We aren't actually very worried about North Korea over here in Hawaii, but you know what I do not like? Department of Defense employees asking where the fallout shelters are. You should know, dude. Or you should make sure we get some. Yes, you, random contractor who is probably in charge of ordering toilets or something. Take some initiative.
Some time later
The homeless guy who sharpens knives on a whetstone across the street from the library came to visit, bearing gifts. He had a shirt on this time, because he and I have already had a stand-off re: his carpet of curly body hair and the library clothing policy*.
"Here's some beef jerky, I made two kinds. It's awesome. If anything were going to make me rich, it would be this stuff, it's so good. I don't know why I'm not rich yet."
"How do you make it?"
"In my car."
We laid the baggies out in the staff room and stared at them.
hobo jerky
also pictured: the jar of homemade hot sauce someone else gave us
We had a brief discussion about the serial killer who served his victims as roadside bbq, decided that this was far more likely to be cat meat than murdered-people meat, and then passed the bag around to smell. It smelled okay. "You try it," my co-workers said. And so I did. Because of course I did. I will eat any garbage people hand me. It's part of my now-very-nearly-not-hypothetical-post-apocalyptic skill set.
I am pretty much almost sure it was actual beef. I have not died or erupted in chest hair yet. Another successful gamble by the woman who once saw a bowlful of rocks and decided to eat one to see if it was candy.
(It was.)
*library policy: body hair does not count as clothes.
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