Saturday, January 7, 2012


Slowly, inexorably, I am being driven insane. Here's a perfect example. A second ago, without knowing what I did, I somehow hit the right combination of keys that turned text into italics. Easy enough to fix. A few seconds. If only the aggravation it caused would go away as quickly. This information is not an epiphany. That was yesterday, which means the Christmas decorations come down today - it's my day off. I start to organize the laundry, decide getting the tree down is more important. I'm hungry. What I really want for breakfast is oatmeal. I have a can of steel cut oats in the cupboard. But nothing to mix-in, my preference being maple syrup. At the store where I work, we sell the grade of syrup I want (grade "B") but I can never find it. It isn't with the rest of the syrups. It isn't with the display for tourists. I thought we'd stopped carrying it until a customer brought "cooking syrup" to the register. They couldn't tell me where in the store they found it. Today, I decide that it is time to get my little syrup container, and go make a bulk purchase at the Co-op. I can control the amount, I don't have to spend tons of money. I already had my coffee - probably the last I will be able to afford for awhile. Coffee beans went up $2.00 a pound Thursday morning. I am having trouble typing, I move closer to the keyboard. My knee knocks into the tape deck. It still lives.

I look all over, the little syrup thingy is not to be found. I only have two or three of them collected over the years. I decide to go to the basement storage, I'm trying not to be foolhardy and buy another container I don't need. I have no clothes left that fit my current size. Smaller, yes. Larger, yes. I have one belt, on it's last legs. It's the type that is comprised of woven stands of leather. I can only keep it in a position tight enough to hold up my pants by using twine tied in a knot. The knot slips. I try to move it. The belt breaks. I have no other belts. I check online to see what time the second hand shop which benefits the hospice opens - 10am. I have an hour. I use twine intended to wrap up the tree to hold up my pants. The bow instantly slips into a knot. I can not reach it to untie it. I head to the basement.

Every time I wade into the storage unit, I run into one of the very syrup containers I'm looking for. Just not today. 8 boxes of stuff later, I have turned up the second pair of scissors - hurrah! They'd only been missing for about 6 years. I find the bulb forcing glass - not knowing where it was I didn't buy that pre-chilled ready for forcing hyacinth bulb on sale that would have cheered me up. Maybe it will still be there when I go back to work, except the sale price will be probably gone and I won't allow myself to afford it.  I find my "pre-show" tape. It is bits of music and dialogue I used to play when company arrived for a movie. I miss showing my 16mm collection - even to myself. I find it hard to sit through a movie on tv. Not so on a screen. I look longingly at the projector. I've no place to put it in my room, though. Just not big enough. All the movement has made the twine holding up my pants stretch.They start falling down. I finally find the syrup container. Happiness abounds. It takes about 20 minutes to get the boxes back into the storage unit.

My hair is a mess. I've been trying to come up with $20.00 to get a haircut. There are only two actual barber trained barbers left in town. One is almost never there. One keeps regular hours - her place is near where I work. She's the one that will cost me twenty by the time I throw in the tip, provided her prices haven't gone up. I figure if I'm going to walk to the co-op and the hospice thrift shop, I might as well walk the 5 minutes more and go to the $10.00 haircut place. It used to be Harold & Son. Harold is long gone. His son has always given me a great haircut. But he mostly drives truck these days. The women who run the shop are hairdresser trained not barber trained. They have almost never given me a cut that I've liked. Maybe I shall bit the bullet and just go.

I accidentally step on something placed out of the way so I won't step on it. It's okay, it's the stapler I didn't have room for on my desk area. Now there will be a little folded over staple waiting to snag my foot flesh the moment I take my socks off.

I can't get to the knot to retie the twine. That's solved easily enough - I just let the pants drop. Fixed! It's nearing 11am. I wonder if I have the time to go and do everything.... what? Where did the time go? If I don't get started there won't be enough light left to take the tree down and pack up properly. I'm still hungry though. 45 minutes to make that oatmeal. Maybe I should check and see if there is even enough left. Hopefully when I stand up my pants will stay up. If not, the screaming you hear will just be me. Nothing unusual. Someday I may actually accomplish something.