Frayed Nerves

Too nice a day for ire to get the upper hand. D said some hurtful things to me, in a tone of voice that I'll not soon forget. No one has talked to me that way for twenty years. I held my tongue, which is unusual for me, went about finishing the high school show. Attached the labels on all fifty pieces (had to count them three times, because I had a left-over label, and no corresponding image in the cheat sheets Sharee makes me so I can label correctly) which led to a few phone calls. The piece is not in the show, alas Breanna, you didn't make the cut. The Bradford Pears in town are beautiful. Because they're self-crowning, require no trimming, they're a popular urban tree, except that they have too little limb-strength and they're always losing major branches. But they look good, for about a week, in the spring, then it rains white blossoms for days, as the leaves push the blooms out of the way. I wouldn't plant one on a bet, but a lot of people do, along their driveways. My driveway is pretty ragged, sassafras and blackberry; my life is pretty ragged, when you get right down to it. I was considering just throwing a dart at a map of the United States and moving there. I could be done with Southern Ohio, it's clannish, and I'd rather never know anyone ever again, than to be talked to in that tone of voice, I'd rather just be left alone. D left early, to take a girl child to the dentist, and Pegi came and asked me what the hell was going on, and I told her, truthfully, that I didn't know. She needed to leave early too, I told her everything was cool, I had to finish the labels and mop the floor. There were 120 third-graders in the museum today and the main bathrooms were a mess, because there are no toilet paper dispensers, no paper towels dispensers, and no trash cans. Looked like a young paper war had erupted. I hesitate to say anything, saying is, specifically, what got me in hot water. If you were going to paint the walls of the theater, future pluperfect, you would do that before you re-carpeted, eliminating the need for cutting-in two hundred feet of bottom edge. Hello? I have to go, thunderstorms, moving in from the northwest. This whole storm seems weak, but it comes in like a lion. Oh, that's right, April. I had a good day, solo at the museum, collected trash and debris, cleaned out the two galleries swhere the high school show is installed, and got the kitchen cleaned out for the food-service for the reception tomorrow evening. Got the carpet scraps (large pieces and copious quantities) hauled over to the Cirque studio, so that TR and I can start cleaning the theater maybe tomorrow. Have to set up for the reception, then the next night for a concert in the main gallery. Pretty sure D doesn't think I work hard enough, but I'm right at the limit for these old bones. I have some art history classes tomorrow, to docent, then three next Tuesday. I look forward to them. Took the morning off to go get my taxes done. So, I didn't know Social Security was taxable, but I hadn't read the fine print, that revealed you could earn up to a certain amount and it wasn't taxed. I fall below. So instead of paying an extra thousand I get a thousand back, which I can immediately send to my older daughter, so that she and her significant can visit at the end of summer. April 10, 2013, and I work most of the day in a tee-shirt. Mopping chevrons. Sorting shit and hauling it to the basement. And on the way home there's a Bald Eagle eating roadkill, a coon splashed flat, I can tell from the tail, and the eagle is a female, and I know what her home-life must be like, taking care of the kids and trying to keep house, an eagle's nest is even messier than my house.