bunt sign

Thursday, September 28, 2000

I'm already behind on email, and now I'm going to be gone for three days. And next week is the first week of the new quarter, which triples my work load. At this point, though, I'm not sure I'd notice the extra work, since I'm so swamped in the first place.

If I ever felt guilty about leaving in the middle of the day Friday (and you know I did), that guilt was blown out of the water by all the extra work the Boss dumped on me today. "If you feel up to it..." and "I just have one or two minor changes..." and "Can we make one more try at getting this right..." — it all added up to me working until 6:30.

I had to quit then, because I needed to get the yard watered down well enough to last the weekend without me. I spent about 45 minutes out there, and when I came back in there were more pages to type. I could never have worked at home before the fax era, but on the other hand, in those primitive days I never worked until 7:30 at night unless I got paid extra for it.

It's trash night here on the west side of Santa Rosa, and I almost forgot about it. It was getting dark by the time I started making three trips down the long driveway to the curb. Trash can, recycle bins, yard waste container, it all adds up. And it's not easy to drag everything along the uneven dirt and gravel surface. It occurred to me on the second or third run that there might come a day when I wouldn't be able to do it. The day I can't take my own trash to the curb I'll have lost a significant part of my independence.

As I was typing that last page for the last time (or so I hoped), I heard a sound through the screen door. I was sure it had started raining, after all my watering efforts. It was dark by then, so I put on the porch light and peeked out. It was not raining, but there were trickles of water issuing from the in-ground sprinkler heads scattered about the garden.

I'd been told that these sprinklers were dead. Otherwise, I wouldn't be going through all this manual effort to keep the garden saturated. The landlord had promised that he would connect the sprinkler system and fix the timer, but I no longer expect much to come out of his promises. Apparently, something is already connected, because they leaked for about half an hour and then shut off by themselves.

By nine tonight I realized I hadn't done a bit of packing for the weekend. We're seeing the air show in Redding Saturday, featuring the Blue Angels. It will be hot there, probably. But the evenings are cooler now than during the summer, so I have to be prepared to make myself comfortable.

I've been trying to get up to Shasta Lake all summer, but circumstances have run interference. Either I was moving, or the Company's financial survival somehow depended on my being tied to my desk. I usually spend at least a week up there in July, and that particular month seemed interminable this year, with everyone away and me stuck here. So yes, I'm excited about the weekend and ready to spend it on the water.

This would be the time to mention that there will be updates from the lake, but they won't be posted until at least Sunday night. If you want to get a friendly message from me letting you know exactly when these entries are available, now is a good time to join the few, the proud, the notify list.

If I owe you email, don't think I've forgotten. It's important to me, and I do plan to catch up.

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Latest recommendation:

Lynda, (Parenthesis), September 27, Words and Silences

Tamar, Visions and Revisions, September 27, Big Boy Bed

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I used to have the stars in my pockets,
Now I just watch them on TV.