Sunday, JR's back - better (was he ever sick?), keen to work hard from 11:00 until 2:00 when he's off to catch his Ferry. In 2 weeks he's worked almost 3 hours, he's trying to prove his worth to his parents.
I'm not making this up.
The evening, slow, a very few tables but I have some regulars, preposterous tippers, that make up for the shortfall. 40% tippers. This is ridiculous.
One, a writer, author of a soon to be published spiritual autobiography, chatting to me at the bar, he's just having the final draft checked for it's "field of consciousness" rating.
"Clayton?" I ask, referring to the owner of a particular machine that beams consciousness into the world, whom I've referred to abundantly before. A major Nelson employer.
And, small world, so it is.
***
Monday morning, volunteering at the thrift shop. Get it done. After which lunch, the library, thrift shops, a few errands. Listen to the ambulances come and check on the homeless people in a stairwell, underpass, fire trucks, the weather, so-so.
Tuesday, up early, coffee, then Dentist. And this is the first time the hygiene tech completes the cleaning. The electric toothbrush, it's gotta be doing something.
Then, again, library, tacos, library again. Then to the Gym. This is the last of my punch pass, I've used it all up, musclebound and 2 weeks early. Now to buy another.
Treat myself with a trip to DQ.
***
The Car is proving a disaster. It's needing every fluid - gas (of course, they all do), oil, transmission fluid, power steering fluid, antifreeze, the fucking thing is leaky as a sieve, and there's no prospect (apart from my lottery ticket) of my buying another. Live with it.
These fluids need topping up every tank of gas. Not that I buy full tanks anymore, half-tanks only. But it's a snowball of debt just keeping it marginally on the road.
***
Wednesday morning, A* in the kitchen wants me to take her rock hounding. A few places, old haunts, we collect some garnets, fluorite, quartz crystals and silver specimens.
I'm sitting on a gold mine if only I had a place to upcycle it. A toolshed. An apartment. Anywhere, really. But, as it is it just weighs down the car.
I'm feeling the need for a place to live, but I have to wait until I've slain a few more debts...