It's charming how alarming I feel

Our office building is at DefCon2. In an effort to keep better track of us (and to keep the smokers from leaving the back door open for the homeless guy who overnights behind the dumpster), they have added full-time alarms to two of the external doors and our back stairwell. We also have little signs as reminders that klaxons will sound if we so much as touch them.
The signs say ‘Door is alarmed’. Funny, I would have figured they’d seen everything by now. Did someone flash the door? Did someone just tell the door how much it costs to raise a child to age 18 in this country? It is, after all, nearly $300,000, and doors don’t really earn much.
In other news, I’ve been Captain Sunburn since Saturday, thanks to five hours in the Florida sun on the back of Ruby, complete with goggles and bandanna. My face looks like an inverse red panda, white-red-white-red stripes top to bottom. Plus I’m furry and cuddly, so that helps. Sunburn rocks, except for that whole peeling thing. I hate the peeling thing.

On our ride we encountered a mammoth hairy hulk at the side of the road, and both Lori and I had the independent WTF moment (no, not the Wisconsin Tourism Foundation, the other one…). We’ve never seen deer this far south, but it was too dark to be a cow, and too big to be any other land mammal stumbling into the path of oncoming traffic. As we got closer, we saw. It was the front end of a very large wild boar, the back end having been obliterated by what must have been either a monster truck or space aliens.
That’s enough keep me off the country roads at night, even in the car, let alone on the bike. This is why I am encouraging every man, woman and child once again to consume more pork. Wild boar should be showing up on menus. Wild boar bacon, Hogzilla ham. King-size pork porterhouses.
Yum. That's the stuff.