When you schlep a TV news camera around for as long as I have, you stop marveling at where it takes you long before you put the damn thing down. Instead, you accept the next stupefying locale for what it is: the reason you're along for the ride in the first place. If I wanted to toil in climate-controlled comfort, I'd find me a nice dry cubicle to grow soft in.
At least that's what I told myself this morning as I rooted around the muddy crawlspace of a North Greensboro home. The overnight deluge didn't end our drought, but it did make my producers wonder what well-diggers were up to these days. I know it doesn't make any sense, but question the house cats' news judgement too closely and you'll find yourself hanging out by the post office quizzing strangers about their thoughts on Avian Flu. With that in mind, I had a pair of well-diggers in my sights by ten, who it turns out, weren't digging wells at all. Rather, they were ripping a doohickey out from under some nice gentleman's house and wondering why the local news geek was stalking their every move.
I get that alot.