That I would never wish on anyone.
Yep — that’s the way it felt. There’s something about trying to leave home….
We canceled, or rather postponed, the just-begun construction job, which involved pulling out the back wall and putting in a downstairs shower, until we return from Nevada:
Lily, our head honcho, promises that the holes, dug by Cole, will be filled with concrete by the time we get home, and maybe her crew will be able to get back to the job by next April. In the meantime, I’ll shower lots in Nevada, where we’ll be until mid-December. That should hold me <snort>
(I should explain that the shower is to accommodate my arthritic hip — which I’m not claiming is really me and which only acts up sometimes. Right now I have to climb a 36 inch claw footed tub to shower and there are days the hip refuses to cooperate. But I won’t have any of those days between mid-December and April, right? And all that showering in Nevada should be sufficient for a couple of months!)
But canceling meant dealing with people whom I like a lot and even love dearly, and it rattled me to have to call them and cancel.
Then I had to get Ms. Willard and Mr. Bones off to Arizona, where she’ll be exhibited in November and December:
Here she is, looking a bit skeptical about the cards that she’s been dealt. She’s probably thinking about her arthritic hip.
Plus I bought a new printer that didn’t like printing some of my stuff; I felt like I was being rejected, but I couldn’t figure out on what grounds. It turns out the files being rejected were too big — now that I understand.
So I printed out a bunch of stuff for the portfolio to take to Nevada, including images of Ms. Willard, and I scavenged a box for her Arizona trip, and I stole Sophie’s tube and cut it to size for Ms. Willard and friend, and left Sophie, lying forlornly, over a chair.
She’s pretty forgiving; her full name is “Sophie, Emerging” and anybody who has emerged with a bunch of crows after her understands about “those days.” There is more to whine about, but exhaustion is taking over even the sniveling part of my brain, so I’ll quit for now. I’m sure this was the low point (knock on wood) of our up-coming journey. –June