While I’m quietly dubbing around the apartment. Today will likely be the heaviest day of the year. We are keeping up, yesterday was practically light, new drivers are helping spread the load. (Some haven’t adapted to delivery and are helping shuttle, move pieces back to the station before the plane leaves, helping freight move in the station. For being proficient at the delivery side I get a route, slammed. It’s with part sarcasm I say “what an honor” and simply push ahead “doing the job”.)
The delayed delivery of the bed emphasizes how much it was discounted, like “nothing is free” so to speak. It means not rushing into the place, allowing a subtle move.
Yesterday I was delivering with the window down, not as mild today (40’s vs 50’s) and some ooshy-goosh from the sky tonight, above freezing tomorrow. Best case scenario to get packages delivered, and then some single digit nights in the queue. I’ll scoot upta camp for some kitchen items, organize and tidy. I’m getting itchy to spend the night here at #8 despite having fun with John on Somerset.
He asked me to roll the trash out, the neighbor forgot. I complied, but on return mentioned I thought he said trash day was Thursday. Even though he’s getting ready to run Wednesday errands, a friend is stopping by for a Wednesday Mac-n-Cheese pickup (with the 9 year old cheddar from a Canadian cave and homemade bread crumbs) he still thought it was trash day.
It’s incredibly poignant to be witnessing this, learning to navigate this, help out politely. Part of me can’t help wonder if his mind would be in better shape if his body was. (Saying that drives home, in this moment to me, that the brain IS part of the body. Sure, Captain Obvious in the house, but whether it’s western culture or the power of the mind to separate/elevate itself from the body.)
A guy I worked with at Mason’s (raging alcoholic and rife with issues) boldly and proudly states (from Downtown Denial) “I’m not here for a long time, I’m here for a good time!” Okay, so then why do you complain about how shitty you feel in the morning, complain about having to work, ditch the line to start drinking. Doesn’t look like a “good time” from here.
John is much more grounded than that, but eats old school, SAD (the Standard American Diet) and I’d say it isn’t helping.
As my dad referred to it, I’ll stick to “bark and berries” to not get sucked into that world… (gotta scoot to work, onward, eager to slip over this hump!!!!)
DeedleDoodleDaily 