Wine Tasting

2nd of 4 wine tastings as fund raisers. Odd that the only two guys who work at the museum do the place-settings. I felt like a waiter in an expensive restaurant. I was never a waiter, I don't know how to wait. I can tell you, though, that this space is too tight and there will be wine spilled. Not my problem. The hostess was cooking today, when we went over to do the set-up, she's a funny lady and I went into her kitchen and told her it smelled like she had "burned the pork chops". She was cooking an entire beef loin, it had just come out of the oven and smelled delicious, I wanted her time and temps. We chatted about food prep for a few minutes, then back to the museum, setting up tables for the auction fund-raiser. I don't understand the scheduling. Too compressed. I'm trying to build a set for the children's play, revamp the lighting, install two shows, have two fund-raisers, all within two weeks, madness. I'm used to theater, cut my teeth on it, and besides, I'm just the janitor, it hardly matters if I buckle under the pressure, you can always find some crack-head to clean the toilets, but D is wavering, under criticism, and no one can fill his job, not for what he's paid. The politic of the work-place. A little praise offsets necessary criticism. I'm just happy to leave, go home, confront the dinner question, get a drink, roll a smoke, listen to the bugs; push comes to shove I could do something else, build a house, sell some land, go to Iowa for a couple of weeks, options. I've never not earned a living, only took food-stamps once, and that was only to make a point (my ex-wife's father was so arrogant I wanted to feed him a welfare meal), tab A, slot B, like my gay friend said. I'm 62 years old, don't take criticism lightly, but listen carefully, almost everything I hear is nonsense, I'd rather not work for anyone, then I wouldn't have to take exception, but there is no silver spoon, and I'm left hanging, an apparent suicide, or slave-labor, or whatever. I'm polite, there's not the smell of burning bodies, though it might be implied. This is the way we wash our clothes. Hang them out to dry. I'm pissed about something and can't say what, exactly. Bear with me. Bare.