Awakened

Heavy flooding in the lowlands, all the bottoms. Driveway held up quite well, meaning it is passable but not much beyond that. Mackletee creek flooded the road in a couple of places, I can see the mud and debris. The 1/4 mile dirt track is completely underwater (even the high banked curves), town is fine. Museum basement took just a little water, which is actually a sign of success for the roof and drain repairs. I get out 124 wine glasses and 24 champagne flutes for the wine-tasting fund-raiser, measure to the top of the 3 ounce line, 3.75% of a cup (a third-cup measure and two teaspoons, almost perfect) then cut a story stick exactly that long, measured from the counter top. Bev, at the front desk, will adhere little strips of label stock at that level, and all the pours will be exactly the same. The wine guy is a tad rigid. Mopped the floor in the main gallery, because the new assistant janitor can't be trusted with a mop. Somehow she seems to have an almost negative effect when she 'mops' and it drives me crazy. And it seems irreligious to teach someone to mop if they really don't have a serious interest, and in just a few days, when I studied mopping for four years. Besides, as I've said, though I'll repeat myself because I love the name, I mop a double-chevron, and it's not really a stroke that can be mastered by a person that's only five feet tall and weighs less than a hundred pounds. The gallery is about 1800 sq. ft. with the back hall, also tiled, call it 2000 ft. It's a big space to mop: it and the driveway keep me in shape. The museum ladies want me to ask Cindy to bar-tend at the 'Cream Of The Crop' opening and that's just the excuse I need to drive home all the way up the creek, instead of coming in the back way, which is shorter. Cindy agrees and I see Ronnie hoeing either broccoli or cabbage in a truck-patch down the way, stop and talk with him for a few minutes, then head home, up the creek, a winding road that has you driving out your side windows. It is glorious, a beautiful day, berries in bloom, and some large trees covered in lavender blossoms. The road took a beating over the weekend, clearly it flooded in three major and several minor places. We're talking a lot of water moving quickly. They build chamber into these creek-side roads, but the water cuts the off-creek side, looking for exit, and scours a trench, the edge of the road disappears. In many places I'm looking at the original fill that is the bed of this road. Creek-run, we call it here, the rocks and mud you scoop from a creek bed. In this case, it was very handy, they built a terrace using the creek itself, put the road on top of that, and it's fine, it only floods a couple of times a year and then only for a few hours. I always carry a book. Doesn't matter if I get stopped. I'd probably be reading anyway. If you tallied up the hours. When you live alone, you read all the time; if you're me, which even I'm not, you read all the time, reading is that whole other universe. Oh, right, I can go there, what I imagine you hear. Consider attachment. I have dead appliances, from a lightning hit; I need to haul away bodies. How, exactly, do I do that?.