The week at work, bananas, crazy, busy, busier, never caught up, long days grown longer, the mid-shift sucking up my mornings and nights.
And the smoke from the fires - a month and a half early, choking out the morning, the evening half-slip of the moon a blood-orange-red in the sky, spectacular sunsets for those with the time to take the pictures.
By Monday I'm done. We're all done, drinks in town, I take it easy, a couple of pints of Guinness, got to be functional on my days off.
Tuesday, my reaction to the second dose of the Vaccine. I was warned it would be worse than the first. The first, a swelling around my neck, the lymph nodes grown over large, lasted a couple of days. This time, it's my upper lip, swells like a chimpanzees or orangutans, numb, large.
The day, attending to trifles. Eat tacos. Cover them in hot sauce, try and balance the diet. Clean out the fridge, eat - whatever, everything, all of it, I'm starving, not just for food but nutrition, I'm missing it all in my diet. Go thrifting - no finds, hit the antique shop - some treasures, but nothing that I want - or need.
(Locks, 1880's, love the detail on the faceplates that no-one would think to look at. But do I need them?)
The weekend past was great for garage sales - or - not great - but I found some necessary tools, and a boxing cushion and gloves which I passed on to the twin bus-girls at work. "Get trained" I tell them. "Foxy boxing - Sibling Rivalry - I've already started selling tickets.".
I don't think they were impressed. My daughter, she'd have been over the moon, but they're a little more sheltered.
The weekend provided the finds, there are none this week in the thrift shops.
Do the recycle, the laundry, the dishes, make more dishes, eat, eat, eat. I'm starving.
Afternoon, sleep off the heat of the day, strange dreams of garage sales, Jeff Bezos, Water Bottles...
Evening. Visit Stormy. Verify he's home, go to DQ to buy him an Ice Cream, return. Knock on the door. It takes him 10 minutes to answer. And he answers, the door closed, just enough for him to slip through, but the air!!! Who will know when he's dead? The smell, already it's as if he's died. And it must penetrate the neighbors suites...
Sit for a bit. He's out of it, was interrupted, answered with a clutch of scrolls half completed, he complains about the ice cream, about everything, the time I visit, and I've no patience for it, these days off are too rare to be here, in this heat, with him complaining about the ice cream that's melting in the front of his scooter, and I'm off...
Home, watch "Ong-Bak", "Rick and Morty", but nothing excites me. The job, the schedule, it's flattened me, I need out of myself in a big way and there's nothing that's doing it. I'm flat. Flat like I've been steamrolled, flat in that all the colorful bits of me, my curiosity, creativity, they're kaput.
Today much the same. A few of the farther flung thrift shops - no finds, or perhaps there were, only my mood has blinded me.
There are endless trifles to be dealt with, my benefits, chores, there would be - on less grey days - prospecting to be done, socializing, but I'm self conscious about my lip (in the morning, the entire face, but over the day it drains and disperses), and I'm flat. Without any ambition other than survival - 7 weeks to go, and 2 weeks to cross the summit - the August Long Weekend - this is becoming a long - the longest - summer ever.
I make plans. There's a party in the valley - August 21 - I get tickets. Me, the kids. Maybe they'll make it, maybe they won't - but it's something to look forward to regardless.
And I brood upon my writing - projects outstanding, art projects, there's a hundred ways to constructively fill my time - but I'm exhausted.
There's a rumor of a new waitress, she's due to start, train, if she starts - if - my schedule might get a little more reasonable, survivable - but that's a big IF. We've hired dozens in the past few years - few have had any skills. Fewer have lasted. Still -
This job - like the Italian place - it's the monkey's paw - you have to get someone else to take it before you can be free of it's curse - and I'm thinking that it's too late, it's done it's number on me.
Anyways, that catches me up, more or less, to the present.