Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Farting around Friday night and trying to motivate myself to clean, I opened a bottle champers and lit some candles and fairy lights. It was pretty how everything looked this pale, shimmery golden color together, and so in order to procrastinate the cleaning task, I started playing with the camera, fiddling with the speed to capture strings of heavenward bubbles and the thin-walled glass burnished with frost. I couldn't find a champagne flute, and I didn't feel like using my 1920s vintage champagne glasses-- too twee for the occasion - so this little beaker thingie had to do. Yes, good solid labware is useful for such industrious occasions.
If I may indulge myself, I simply must whine a bit.
I spent most of Monday dealing with a mud eruption near the pool on property. Maintenance is on vacation, and the replacement staff have communication issues and couldn't help with the problem. Further, the mudruption is causing a mud slick across the paved path of the one of the crown jewels of the city's park systems. Isn't that nice? How I've escaped major tix from kode inforsement is a marvel. I called a real plumber out who charges me $200/hour on regular Mon-Fri appointments during business hours. He cut the water off to 2/3 of my residents for 2 hours Monday night, and "fixed" the problem. I'm going to pay him 3.5 hours of holiday overtime, and heaven knows what that will cost. SO, Tuesday evening, there's a new mud geyser a mere 3 feet away from the last one. *Oh, Joy.*
I love the easy access of great dining and the variety of entertainments available here. In a lot of ways, I think I like this place better than I would any other American city, but for some time I've been feeling the urge to get away from the fakery and ridiculousness of it all. I realize any job and any place has its stresses, but this is making me long to man the reins of a trailer park in the backwoods.
Better still, no more jobs babysitting adults.
I was visiting family friends on their little cattle farm last year, and near sundown, I could hear a meadowlark teaching its babies to call. I heard the mama and then the wobbly nestlings sounding out their wonky imitations of her perfect tune. She very patiently said "no, darlings, a little more like this" and then "now, try again, dears." I thought "why would anyone who lives out here ever long to live in a city?"
So, anyhoo, when this job ends, well, I can't say where I'll be next year, but it certainly won't be here.