Affixing Labels

Idiot work, and I'm the man for the job. Wine tasting fund-raiser coming up and Doctor White wants two little labels attached to each of 150 wine glasses. One marks the level at three ounces (a third-of a cup plus two tablespoons) and the other, for the base, is an abbreviation for the wine type. I'm enjoying the creek road, a lovely thing in the fall. Had a beer after work with D, then headed home, into an amazing sky. A front moving in, but the clouds were a discontinuous layer and the breaks were all orange and red. A biblical movie, with shafts of light. The driveway is a delight, fully three feet wider, and so soft now, compared to the rocky arroyo it was just a few days ago. Flat is good. I need to haul in supplies, replenish the reserve water supply, pick up lamp oil and utility candles. I need two dump truck loads of fill, to eradicate the frog puddles and allow final access. I've got firewood staged all along the ridge and I need to get it under wraps. The invasion of the sluggish fall flies. They're easy to kill, I pluck them out of the air with my hand and slam them against any hard surface, but they're noisy, and break what's left of my concentration. And the windows begin to look like there was a mass killing inside my house. Gunshot spatter. It's not pretty. Flies are beautiful, that iridescent thing that happens when light reflects off their body. Why do they bounce their wings when they're walking? I don't know anything about flies. I talked with the older daughter, and she has worked out logistics, and I don't have to take them to the airport in Columbus or Cincy, they're taking the train, from South Shore, Kentucky, into NYC. This couldn't be easier for me. I have to drive them eight miles, just on the other side of the river. Cake. I could do this drunk or in my sleep. I fry some shredded potatoes into a nest and settle an egg in the middle; this is so good I do it three times. I'm a lunatic, probably. The people I work with aren't used to crazy people. Transparent, lucid, crazy people. So they cut me some slack. Which is good, because I am well and truly nuts. I just spent an hour considering the angle of light. Then, sneezing, remembered the real world. Right. Look both ways before you cross the street.