Speaking of work, it was so busy there it wasn't until almost 3 o'clock before I could cast on my rat. I had a raft of tanks to fill, paying customers to wait on, an instructor to take books and money from and make copies of forms for, and UPS brought 3 boxes of stuff to be priced and stocked. *pant, pant* I had enough tanks to fill that I will be running the compressor first thing this morning. I've got my earplugs ready. Oh, and at the end of the day I did something that I've never done in 21 years of working there. I locked myself out. See, I always lock the front door when I count the till then it was trash night so I gathered up all the trash, bagged it, and took it out to the bin in back meaning to drag it to the curb before I drove away but the wind caught the door (I hadn't slid out the bolt to keep it from closing) and slammed it shut. That wouldn't be a problem except there's no doorknob on the outside of the back door. My keys, my phone, and my coat were all inside and I was outside in the windy 10 degree evening. Luckily the garage next door was open so I went there to use his phone and wait out of the cold. The only person with a key whose number I remembered off the top of my head was JJ's and he lives nearly 15 miles away but he roared into town, let me in, and roared off again. Now I have to think of how to thank him in a tangible way, something he won't refuse. I have an idea.
March 4--Svoboda Stock. Emma put her phone face down on the table. "What is it with people taking pictures of their food?" She took a sip of wine. "I don't know what they expect." Rose shook her head. "You don't have to respond. You can just ignore it, and them, if you choose." Emma toyed with her fork, sliding the heavy silver utensil between her fingers. "But am I supposed to admire it? Envy it? What? I feel like the next fad will be pictures of feet or teeth. Those are things I don't want to see." "For crying out loud, why are you obsessing over this? This food photography isn't worth burning brain cells over." Emma looked at her, big blue eyes brimming with tears. "But what does it mean?" Rose reached across the table putting her warm hand over Emma's cold one. "It doesn't mean anything. It's someone saying, 'I'm going to eat this. Doesn't it look good?' That's all." She gripped her sister's hand tighter. "Did you stop taking your pills?" Emma looked away.
I can always write about food. Time to get moving and face the day head on--and finish my Flat Rat. It's still bitter cold but it's sunny and I'm always a fan of sunny. Last work day of the week today and only Saturday brunch with Durwood and his pals on my "must do" list. To quote someone small in my life, Byeeee!
--Barbara
1 comment:
You've waxed eloquent over a rat mat!!! No object is safe from your enthusiasm -- and you didn't even mention that monkey on the end of your knitting needles. (I think it's a monkey anyway.) And I'm glad you survived locking yourself out in that frigid weather!! Life can be an adventure sometimes!!!
Post a Comment