Conditional Tense

Flat out circus mode. I got to the museum an hour early, so I could survey what needed to be done, and at 8:30 Trish arrived with a load of tables, borrowed from the hospital, at nine the decorating committee arrived, including two board members. Now, really. We were to open this show three days early, but now, it seems, we were supposed to have it ready this morning, at nine. The three of us involved with installing the show had not an inkling of this. Make the best of a bad situation. They can't set anything up until after we've lit the show, because we have to drag a ladder around through all the space. D starts lighting, I start hauling stuff to the basement. Have to stop and get out the grand piano, because Jerry is coming to tune it, and already the tables are in our way; the Stanley Steamer guys arrive, to clean the carpeted stairways. Jerry arrives. All morning his one-note plinking is the sound track. It's a zoo. After a pitched lunch, D finally gets the missing labels, and we mount those, and while he's trimming them, I do something else, I forget what, the next thing on the list. Two sidebars. One is that Sara understood I liked my job, and two, is that Kim said he thought I punctuated beautifully. High praise on both counts. I do love my job, and the punctuation is mostly a reminder, of how I would speak that line, if I was asked to speak it. Language is complex, we need markers. For me it mostly denotes phrase breaks, and they're important, the slight moves aside. It might be said I'm more careful with a comma than any man alive. It might not be true. But it sounds good. Make a note that you can do more with less. Consider the graphic design. You and your's might argue something different. I don't care about you, that particular you. I'd rather die in the swamp,