Foiled Plans

The Jeep Liberty was already sold, so I'm looking around on the web, the way I've seen D do. The drive into town this morning was harrowing. Drove in at thirty MPH and kept pulling over to let cars pass. The steering was wanky. Not happy with this turn of events because the weather is nice (warmer) and I'd rather be home. But, we have a major show to install and that will be the priority starting tomorrow, i have to be here. It'll be good to see Sara, to deal with art, to establish that we are an art museum and not just a venue for wedding receptions and concerts. I drive out to the salvage yard, it's only a few miles, after packing my pockets with jerky and dried fruit, only to discover that the Jeep is sold, and limp back into town, with the wanky steering, wondering what I'd done to deserve this. TR drives me to look at a vehicle and when we get back to the museum Sara is there and ready to set the show, which we do, in record time. There are some problems involved, with displaying a few of the pieces, but the problems are the very things that make this job interesting. Only a couple of difficult situations and nothing impossible, we should have the show installed by the end of the day Friday, and the labels are already made. This show is done, and a week early, because all the prep was finished ahead of time. TR is molding into the flow, I feel like I'm training my replacement, which, I suppose I am; I impress on him to take care and move slowly. I can't believe the value of some of the pieces, shocked, actually, because value is a matter of galleries and collections, it has very little to do with the work itself. I begin to consider myself a judge, which is scary. Me a judge with my limited knowledge. Back at the pub there's an event scheduled for the main room, and those of us at the bar are shuffled into the front room. I hate when my pattern is interrupted.