Sitting around on a Monday morning doing data entry and enjoying the quietness of the hall – no banging, no workmen’s shouts, no chattering faculty (yet). I’m still congested as hell, hacking up green lumps in the morning and wondering if it might not be time for some antibiotics if I can get in to see the doctor. It’s been almost two weeks now for this shit and since my medical coverage lapses like, real soon, and also since I need my health for the week coming up, playing it a little more safe than I usually do can’t hurt. I guess.
To make it worse I expect to start burping soap bubbles any minute because last night I ran out of dishwasher detergent and rather than buy more I would never use tried substituting the Dawn that someone had left under the sink and it made a huge (though clean-smelling) mess and this morning my oatmeal tastes suspiciously of nasty commercial dish soap. Next time it’s Dr. Bronners and I don’t care what I usually say about hippies, if it’s good enough for my skin it’s good enough for my Tupperware.
I used a lot of Dr. Bronners in other ways yesterday, showering three times over the course of the day because I was working in the truck packing the crevasses and installing small fixtures and it’s beastly hot and humid outside but especially in a camper-shell even with the windows and tailgate open. The truck now looks pretty good though, ready for the main cargo with lots of small stuff tucked away around the edges. I love fiddling with logistics almost as much as I love poking holes in the lumber with a drill. Even if I do leave a small lake of sweat for the plywood to soak up when I’m done.
The cat has become slightly crazy lately. After years of near-silence she’s already gotten quite talkative in the week since Malcolm’s departure – I figure that now she doesn’t have to worry about giving away her location she’s enjoying the freedom – but with the full moon approaching she’s both noisy and restless, following me around the house and taking up her vigil at the food-bowl three and more hours before feeding time and just generally being high-maintenance in a way she hasn’t since… well, that last time we moved, almost five years ago. She’s happy to be rid of Mal, that’s obvious, but she also knows something’s up. Something big.
I bought a 16-foot retractable leash yesterday but haven’t tested it on her yet as she’s enjoying her high spirits way too much. The “Come With Me Kitty” harness is humiliation enough, and come next week she’s going to be wearing it a lot. Weeks at a time, even. I love Sadie, of course I do, and I hate to do this to her but she’s not getting snarfed up by a coyote on my watch if I can help it.
Little things like this make up my life these days. Remember to pick up the last refills of two different BP meds at the end of the week. Mail that package to my mother. Copy every last creative thing I’ve produced on the job to a flash drive so I can later see how I did that poster or those 3-level pure CSS flyouts after months on the road have wiped my mind clean of anything computer-related beyond how to use the Gmail and iTunes interfaces. Sort through two years of Photoshop Creative magazines for articles that will similarly help jump-start me, scan the fuckers and upload them to Evernote. Organize everything in boxes to be sold Saturday morning at the yard sale I’m holding (having largely given up on Craigslist as an effective selling tool) and buy signs and price stickers and who knows what the fuck else because I’ve never held a yard sale before.
And so on. When Sharene returned to San Antonio right after we had lunch Saturday she said she'd get out of my way because she was sure I had a lot to do. I said I didn’t necessarily, most everything important was done, but now I’m not so sure. A week goes by quickly when you’re not paying attention and even sometimes when you are.
It’s the little things will break you. Doesn’t matter how much time you have to prepare, there’s never enough during the last stretch. But I’m enjoying it. I like being busy, especially when it’s in aid of something I’m looking forward to - like a very long vacation.
Sharene and I ate at the Korea House and last night Hanna and I had dinner at the Hyde Park Grill, almost certainly my last meal at each of those two favorites. Rick and Brandy promise to take me to the Salt Lick next Sunday for my birthday/going-away meal. Sarah says she’s taking me to the Clay Pit Friday. One thing I obviously won’t be is poorly-fed, especially since a project this week is cleaning out my freezer of all those chicken pot pies and mac-and-cheese piled up.
I don’t even mind missing my birthday proper, which is tomorrow. I’ll almost certainly be spending it at work, pretending it’s just like any other day – my earlier comment about preferring eating ground glass to doing so notwithstanding, I’ve really got too much to do to take the day off. Self-indulgence like that is how the little things break you.
No soap bubbles yet though, and still fairly quiet on the hall. Even the data entry doesn’t go down so badly considering how good the big picture is looking right about now.
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