The good news was that Dad decided to have the dead pine tree cut down so it wouldn’t fall on the house. The bad news was that the only time the guy could do it was this morning at 6:30. That’s a.m. That’s pretty darn early for us – the household of the second shift.

However, if the tree were to crash through the roof, chances are that wouldn’t happen at a convenient time. I’m not sure there IS a convenient time for a tree to crash through the roof. I can’t think of a good time for that, except for, maybe, if you were in the midst of an audit by the IRS taking place at your home. Or if you were about to be arrested. “Come out with your hands up!” and then the tree crashes through the roof, creating a diversion, and even an escape route. Or if, somehow, some kind of a crazed wild animal has gotten into your home, showing no fear of humans and has cornered you then – bam!- the tree falls scaring the wits out of the homicidal deer, or whatever.

Okay, apparently, I CAN think of convenient times for a tree to crash through the roof. But, the point is, not under ordinary circumstances...

Anyway.

My father left me a note that said that he and the tree trimmers would be there at 6:30. and he was sorry that was the only time he could get the guys. I was mostly glad that Dad was going to be there, because I was afraid they were going to cut down the wrong tree or something before I could get out and stop them.

“You gonna grieve on that?” mumble, mumble, mumble, “What happened yesterday? All right, as long as somebody’s gonna grieve on that!” a voice said in my sleep.

Oh for goodness sake! I hate it when I have The Hub’s dreams! I do, or at least it seems like it. Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in the problems that he’s having that I dream about his business, his customers, his previous jobs – it reminded me of how the truckers used to talk when he worked at Allied Systems.

Then I remembered: the tree trimmers. Union tree trimmers? I opened my eyes.

“Isn’t it a beautiful day?” the bold voice went on outside my window. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood! A beautiful day in the neighborhood! Would you be mine? Could you be mine?!” he went on, singing the song from Mister Rogers Neighborhood. In it’s entirety. Unconcerned by the fact that he had a terrible voice.

The dog whined, presumably because his ears hurt. I know mine did. I looked over the side of the bed to where Winston lay on the hardwood floor. He yawned and gave me a tail thump. Breakfast already? Okay his expression suggested and he trundled out into the hall behind me. The Hub was not moving and didn’t look like he was going to start any time soon.

I took the beach towel off of the pair-a-tweeter cage. Both birds looked up in complete astonishment and stretched their wings and legs.

“Cheep?”

“It’s the tree trimmers” I told them. Early in the morning, I tend to be less aware of who can and can’t understand English. It was 6:25. I looked out the door, and there was my dad, wide awake, clean shaven, with a spring in his step despite the 45 minute ride down from Pennsylvania. I reached up and put a hand on my head to check and see if I had any hair, and, if so, what condition it might be in. I had no shoes on and no idea where any shoes might be. But I was encouraged to that I was aware enough to think of shoes and remember that they were related to my feet. Somebody started a chainsaw.

There were four guys running around the front yard, and one of them went past with part of the maple tree in his hands.

“Um.” I said uselessly. But my father seemed unconcerned, and it dawned on me that they were trimming the part of the maple that was close to the power lines.

Astonishingly, almost all of the dead pine tree was gone. It had been a very tall tree, though not one with a broad trunk. The ersatz Mr. Rogers had shut up as soon as my father got there. Such power men have, and they don’t even realize it, though my dad may have a little extra luster. It turned out he had taught history to the boss.

I went back into the house where The Hub was staggering around the kitchen. I was happy to see that he was wearing pants. He didn’t have any coffee brewing, which lead me to think that he wasn’t aiming to be up long, but he did start to read the paper. Dad came in and gave us all the news from Pennsylvania, but he didn’t stay long.

At 8:00 though, we went back to bed. There’s only so much you can expect from us second shifters.