I'm Freaking Out a Bit

Do I have everything boxed up so that it can be hauled out of the room so that tonight's musclemen can move things efficiently?  Will the carpet guy get the bedroom done so I have a place to sleep tomorrow night?  (thanks for that one, Durwood, I hadn't considered that)  Will Durwood be okay in his motel room with no real way to escape or drive away without me?  Will the carpet installer call today to tell me what time he'll be here or will he just show up while I'm still asleep?  Obsess, obsess, obsess--sometimes it's my best thing.  I know in my intellectual brain that all will work out but my six-year-old brain (maybe it's not even that old) is running around like a chicken with its head lopped off screaming, "oh my god! oh my god! there's so much to do, too much to think about! gah!"  I make myself tired.

This morning when I poked my head out there was the barest line of peachy pink hiding behind the trees and a few wispy clouds tinted the palest of pinks.  An hour later the sky was crisscrossed with vapor trails.  Every time I see one I wish I was on the airplane that made it no matter where it's going.

I knit about 50 stitches last night, maybe a couple hundred because I did one row on my Oriole Wings Wrap because it was glaring at me when I finally sat down on the couch to watch a little TV between clearing off Durwood's dresser tops and hauling up a microwave to take to his motel for him.  There's a coffee pot and fridge in the room but no micro and it's just too far for him to use the one in the breakfast area.  I use a small cheap one to cook my lotions and since it fits into the biggest suitcase for ease of transport he gets a microwave.

I think the work point of sale computer is finally coming around.  It's never good when the software provider "upgrades" your stuff.  What they see as an improvement usually means it's endlessly buggy and won't work the way they say it will.  At least we can still do business, handwriting invoices and figuring out tax on a calculator.  Today I'm going to be on the phone with the tech learning how to do a transaction, taking copious notes since there's no online tutorial or physical manual to help us.  Wouldn't you think you'd write down a few directions when you completely overhaul something?  Last week one day the tech kept trying to make it do things and it wouldn't.  Finally she said, "I think your machine's possessed" and hung up to go harass the programmers to figure out the problems.  But we're getting it and we haven't had to threaten it with a double-barreled shotgun in, oh, at least a day.

October 23--Roman, Wall Painting from Room H of the Villa of P. Fannuis Synistor at Boscoreale.  Maria crept up behind Lucia as she sat playing her small harp.  Maria loved the music.  She thought it sounded like birds wings and water flowing in the stream behind the garden.  She wasn't supposed to be in the house, wasn't supposed to bother Lucia when she was practicing for the competition but the music drew her every time.

Oh, man, time has gotten away from me.  I need to dress and eat and stop at the pharmacy and grocery store and still get to work by 10.  Better run.
--Barbara