The Cooties

I'm vacationing this week, but events have conspired against lazy, summer, bliss and I find myself up before the crack of dawn preparing for a strange, off the cuff, sunny-orchestrated, power breakfast with two dinosaurs from the energy business. This in the shadow of Ken Lay's untimely exit. What the hell am I doing? I've been on a bad streak lately, having difficulties in my communication space, so to say. It seems I'm making enemies left and right and all I'm doing is walking the walk. It seems the world is tilted in one direction and I'm full tilt in the other. On the one hand, I'm thinking I'm stepping into a possible combustible situation, one that I choreographed, (I've got no one to blame but me), on the other, I'm kind of interested to see if the sparks fly, the walls crack, and the sidewalks really do open to the flaming gates of hell. What a tangled web we weave...