Taking stock..
God, what a week.
8 Hours of Get out the Vote calling on Saturday completely killed my weekend and my will. It was a good thing indeed to enjoy the company of friends after.
I've held off commenting on the elections because they went far better than I could have dreamed. I'm not so much hopeful as relieved. One of the state house elections we were working on is still up in the air, so it could mean getting a Democratic majority in the PA House if the recount goes well. Currently our candidate's lost by 19 votes in the initial count, with several hundred absentee ballots still to be accounted for. *fingers crossed*
The rest of the week went about as well as expected, and better than I might have hoped. I surpassed quota all three evenings, and earned a bit of bonus, ending my stint on a high note. I still haven't figured out just how I'm so good at my job. I'm fast and persistant, and at the end of the night, that somehow means good fundraising. There's a startlingly high percentage of washouts, and an astonishing variety of backgrounds.
Now that I'm done for a bit, I almost think I'll miss it. It's a job where the work is monotonous, and rather sucks, but the people and environment make up for it. 80% of the crew smoke, and the majority of them are activists and students. There's a hipster socialist, a metal artist getting a social work degree, a performance poet, a jazz musician, two DJs, a security guard for Planned Parenthood, a former union organizer, and a mother of two.
On the slate this weekend is some serious cleaning, if I can summon the energy. I've been working evenings for nearly 5 months now, and I can count on one hand the number of times I'm had the entire house clean. There's always laundry and dishes, and sweeping and scrubbing, and I'm going to get a good start on the actual sanitizing before I start worrying about organizing, and cataloguing, and catching up on my Christmas knitting. Once I've gotten that finished, I can actually sit down and worry about having the time to read something all the way through.
I'm about a third of the way through In the Night Garden, and it's so lovely that I have to force myself not to rush. It's not the sort of book I like to read in snatches on breaks because it's so easy to get lost in. I can't even figure out why I'm enjoying it to this degree - the stories are charming and sometimes fierce, and echo childhood wonder, and the language is every bit as rich as I've come to expect from the author. At a very simple level, I'm loving it because it's so very different from the hassle and exhaustion of the everyday - it transports in the most ordinary of settings, but it's the kind of reading best suited to incense and tea and pillows.
8 Hours of Get out the Vote calling on Saturday completely killed my weekend and my will. It was a good thing indeed to enjoy the company of friends after.
I've held off commenting on the elections because they went far better than I could have dreamed. I'm not so much hopeful as relieved. One of the state house elections we were working on is still up in the air, so it could mean getting a Democratic majority in the PA House if the recount goes well. Currently our candidate's lost by 19 votes in the initial count, with several hundred absentee ballots still to be accounted for. *fingers crossed*
The rest of the week went about as well as expected, and better than I might have hoped. I surpassed quota all three evenings, and earned a bit of bonus, ending my stint on a high note. I still haven't figured out just how I'm so good at my job. I'm fast and persistant, and at the end of the night, that somehow means good fundraising. There's a startlingly high percentage of washouts, and an astonishing variety of backgrounds.
Now that I'm done for a bit, I almost think I'll miss it. It's a job where the work is monotonous, and rather sucks, but the people and environment make up for it. 80% of the crew smoke, and the majority of them are activists and students. There's a hipster socialist, a metal artist getting a social work degree, a performance poet, a jazz musician, two DJs, a security guard for Planned Parenthood, a former union organizer, and a mother of two.
On the slate this weekend is some serious cleaning, if I can summon the energy. I've been working evenings for nearly 5 months now, and I can count on one hand the number of times I'm had the entire house clean. There's always laundry and dishes, and sweeping and scrubbing, and I'm going to get a good start on the actual sanitizing before I start worrying about organizing, and cataloguing, and catching up on my Christmas knitting. Once I've gotten that finished, I can actually sit down and worry about having the time to read something all the way through.
I'm about a third of the way through In the Night Garden, and it's so lovely that I have to force myself not to rush. It's not the sort of book I like to read in snatches on breaks because it's so easy to get lost in. I can't even figure out why I'm enjoying it to this degree - the stories are charming and sometimes fierce, and echo childhood wonder, and the language is every bit as rich as I've come to expect from the author. At a very simple level, I'm loving it because it's so very different from the hassle and exhaustion of the everyday - it transports in the most ordinary of settings, but it's the kind of reading best suited to incense and tea and pillows.