Not To Say

It didn't occur to me that anyone would take offense. I assumed we were after the best interest of the museum. Thank god I have this civil side that prevents me from killing people. I shock myself, sometimes, with my ability to be polite. What it boils down to is a very strong desire to avoid prison. Checks and balances. I often simply walk away from situations where I might become over-animated. I can do something, here at home, a great many things, for hours on end: watch tadpoles, explore communication with a fox, talk to crows, and temper is never an issue. I'm a good worker, fuck, I'm a great worker, talk about bang for the buck, but I don't suffer ignorance lightly. I don't think my job is in danger, Pegi and D both value what I do at and for the museum, but when Trish, the office manager, took on a second welfare lady, and I finally got back to museum, I still haven't used up my extra time, I didn't use two weeks of paid vacation last year and I haven't used any this year, one of the welfare ladies (I need a word for this position that isn't profiling) is actually doing childcare for the other one. This is a loop I don't want to be in. Kids are great but business is business. Now there are two people who are supposedly filling my shoes as janitor, not large shoes, 11W, allowing room for winter socks, but nonetheless, you'd expect the floor to be clean. I'm not a teacher. I have no patience with someone's inability to learn to do something. Shit, or get out of the way. Maybe this is a product of being a military brat, the attitude, but I always make my bed and sweep the floor I walk on. Swab the decks. I don't need more bodies, I don't want to instruct anyone on how to handle art, I just want the space to do what I know needs to be done. Fucking wedding receptions. A world in which this is even mildly important. I don't buy it. I can accept that flicker of red where a pileated woodpecker enters the frame, but tying bows on the back of chairs is a waste of time. I'm so not a Romantic. What are you doing, first, and second, what do you mean. Today was better. James and I set-up to wrap and crate in the gift shop, on D's advice (I had to call him last night and vent) I ignored everyone except Pegi, who was enormously solicitous and sent a memo to everyone that any events would need Staff Meeting approval. Managed to get half of the remaining half of the show packed. I actually do stop and find a few things for the groom's mother, Nancy, she's sweet and it's a big day for her, when I left today, she fawned over me, said I had made it all possible. At one point she came over to where I was working, and almost in panic mode asked if we had any small clear xmas lights. I thought for a moment and said I'm look, James looked at me and said wanted to see me pull that particular rabbit out of my hat. But I remembered the Hospital had left a bunch of stuff after their xmas party, if I could just remember where I had stashed the box. I found it. James was amazed, and Nancy professed love for me. Halfway home I remembered I've forgotten my groceries, including dinner. Don't even consider going back. I've got three left-over biscuits, I'll split them, toast them with cheddar cheese on top, and make a simple cream of tomato soup from a can of stewed tomatoes. When I catch these tomatoes at Big Lots, two cans for a dollar, I buy six or eight. A superior soup is just a can of them, some basil, salt and pepper, run through the blender, heated with cream. I often have sour cream around, so I put a scoop of that on top. I make a decent borscht in much the same way. Canned beets. Mostly I hate cleaning the blender, but I have that down to a science and I rarely cut myself anymore. It's above freezing! My drain is open again. Walking in, this afternoon, on several inches of rotten snow, was a question of balance. I was carrying whiskey and tobacco, and I very much wanted to get home, start a fire, have a drink and smoke, so I was very careful. There was a deer on the opposite slope, tracking me, felt less fearful as I moved up and away, and I was able to watch her for 30 minutes. Mostly she ate whatever leaves came in her line of sight, her tail flickered whenever a branch broke. I have a card, punch-pinned to a post on the stairs, that says just "Fridge" which reminds to flip the breaker back on for the fridge, because I often unplug the phone and kill that breaker when I'm writing at night. I've always done this, but less frequently, now I do it all the time. It got to the point where I'd be thinking about something, and the phone would ring or the fridge would kick on, and I'd lose my train of thought; excuse me, I can fix this, an easy correction. Turn everything off. I'm worried about packing the dioramas, we need to average one per half-hour, but it's a bell curve, or whatever, and it would be ok for the first one to take an hour, still, I'm watching the clock here. Don't like to, but we must. We must needs be expeditious. Have to be. Figuring I'll go in Sunday and pack the last crates. Might ship Monday, but someone points out it's a National Holiday, more likely Wednesday, when the weather is supposed to get bad again. Nothing is ever easy.