Cleaning Up

I know everyone has a lot to do, and I'm not complaining, but everyone mostly sits on their ass and expect things to be done. It's a disease. Take taking the skirts off the tables, never used to be my job, but now it is, because I did it once, and now it's expected. One of my problems is that I too easily take on the tasks of others. I don't mind washing dishes. I don't mind mopping the floor. D, acting where I wouldn't, told Trish to get the skirts off so we could move the tables. Easy enough. Easy enough drive in because, by local standards, I go to work late, leaving the house at 8, giving myself, always, an extra 30 minutes in case something interesting might appear. If nothing appears on the drive in, I get my free coffee at Market Street and go below the floodwall. There's always something down there. I don't know why Spell Check doesn't like 'floodwall', and it turned my 'ass-holes' into Achilles. Which I don't understand at all. The vagaries. Anyone has a fairly recent Webster's College Dictionary that they want to get rid of, it's what I keep at hand and mine's falling apart. I actually have to stand up and walk two feet to get to the dictionary table, which I do several times a day, but I need the handy, smaller, dictionary, because I'm a terrible speller. God, that storm last night. It wasn't just me, it was pretty wide spread. Expected to have to do some road clearing on Mackletree, so I allowed even more time. But since I'm so late, relatively, all the work had been done. Which freed me up for a saunter at the river's edge. I kept my hands in my pockets and picked-up nothing. I'm getting rid of stuff, I'm not collecting. On the other hand, I'm interested in doing a show based on Specific Gravity & Weight Per Cubic Foot, for which I would need a cubic foot of a great many things. I want to curate this show with Anthony, because he had a similar idea. Think about it, then send me a cubic foot of something, send it to the museum. Kim, if you do a cubic foot of cast iron, I'll come and get it. It would still be yours, of course, and I think you need one, but it might sell. I thought Kurt might do a cubic foot of live oak, because it is so close to water, .98, and is so different. There'd have to be a cubic foot of water, the benchmark. There'd need to be a couple of scales, so people could weigh things, whatever they could lift. What's a cubic foot anyway. Molecules don't align, there's a lot of wasted space. Mostly, there's wasted space. One thing we'd be talking about is density. Things dry, and get smaller, you end up with less than a cubic foot of oak and it's still more than 10% water. What are the rules? And everything shrinks at a different rate, so there are no simple answers. Take concrete, 90% cured in 28 days, 100% in 28 years. I have to line up the rental car tomorrow. I can pack in ten minutes, everything I wear is the same, 2 pair of jeans, 3 denim shirts, 5 pair of underpants, 4 or 5 tee-shirts, 7 sets of socks. A cubic foot of clothes. On second thought don't send a cubic foot of anything, I have to think about this. Phone went out last night, so I couldn't SEND. Up too early this morning, and couldn't get back to sleep. Drizzling rain earlier than forecast, and I had to wait for the driveway to firm up. An hour late for work. I've got so much accumulated time it's ridiculous, plus my four weeks of vacation. I'm using a week and a day over Thanksgiving, then two weeks, an hour at a time, getting home early in January and February, assuming I'm still on the ridge. I really can't leave the house unoccupied. When I get back from Florida I have to re-insulate the other half of the floor, maybe a four hour job, if I can get Anthony to come out and help; a brutal eight hours if I have to do it alone, what with the climbing in and out. Still a small price to pay, because my life would be so much easier. I talked to Amanda at Enterprise and I'll have a car at 8 AM on Monday. Should be able to get to Columbia, South Carolina by dark, then on to Jax by early afternoon the next day. I promised Mom I'd cook a meatloaf, with mashed potatoes and gravy. Mostly they like left-over meatloaf as a lunch meat, with a thin layer of mashed potatoes and gravy, a slice of onion; I can't argue with that, it's a perfect sandwich.