blood, lice, a wedding and an engagement
...almost like the ten plagues, come into my life, but with parties.
So for the past week and a half, I've been moving microfridges into dorm rooms. The morning of my fourth day I woke up and expelled blood with the snot in my nose: Cleaning chemicals. It's a lousey job with too much testosterone around and no time for anything else the same day, but the pay is pretty good.
Speaking of lousey, I found a bug in my hair a few weeks ago just as I was moving out of my sublet apartment. So I've essentially moved in with Rachel until that problem is finally and certainly dealt with. Which is a long process because of repeated washings of everything I own and rechecking and the possability of missed eggs and such. Should be 100% dealt with by Sunday, I hope. Maybe by then I'll have some idea of where my bike will be coming from, too, since the frame I was hoping to be working on turned out to be too small.
Saturday was the wedding of Sarah Rose and Bryant Adams, two of my dearest friends. I realized during the ceremony how much of a community there is surrounding folk music in this town, and how little I've taken advantage of that this summer. And I had to shrug it off and realize that it's too late and I can only try to step up to the plate better in the future. The wedding and party were amazing, giddy fun. The next day I stayed in bed late and thus got to Julia's engagement party late, but I don't really mind missing time with the family. I was amazed by the number of people there, though, aunts and great aunts I hadn't seen in years, as well as the usual suspects. In contrast, Sarah Rose and Bryant forbade presents at their wedding, aside from potluck dishes; the presents at my sister's engagement party were a central part of the affair, taking everyone away from conversing and driving me into the basement to hide. I stashed boxes of things in the shed and went to Dan Romer's show at the Chance.
The Fireflies were a lot of fun, as usual, but it was weird to be in the Chance without knowning anyone but them; and no cigarette smoke, either. It took me a minute to realize what the difference was between my memory and the actual hall, and it hit me with the force of nostalgia: I could breathe. The cigarette haze of yesteryear created a mysterious, dark atmosphere, but I'd always hated coming home smelling of smoke and getting sick after a show; all praise to the public spaces smoking edict.
After the show I wanted so badly to hang out with Dan, have some drinks, chat up the ladies; but I knew that's not what I really needed, so I drove out to New Paltz to say hi to Dawn and her new boyfriend David, finally someone who seems to be good for her. What started out as a sleepy hello to a curled-up pair on the couch turned into a lively conversation, and I had to excuse myself three times before finally getting out the door at half-past midnight. Again, I would have loved to have stayed, but work in the morning dictated otherwise. I started falling asleep at the wheel just past the Ashokan reservoir, so I pulled over and slept until first light then drove into Binghamton, called the others, and waited. It was 10:30 when I finally found them despite not being called back or answered when I called. I'm glad I took yesterday off and was "let go" today. The money was good, but life is better.
"Purity of heart is to will one thing."
So for the past week and a half, I've been moving microfridges into dorm rooms. The morning of my fourth day I woke up and expelled blood with the snot in my nose: Cleaning chemicals. It's a lousey job with too much testosterone around and no time for anything else the same day, but the pay is pretty good.
Speaking of lousey, I found a bug in my hair a few weeks ago just as I was moving out of my sublet apartment. So I've essentially moved in with Rachel until that problem is finally and certainly dealt with. Which is a long process because of repeated washings of everything I own and rechecking and the possability of missed eggs and such. Should be 100% dealt with by Sunday, I hope. Maybe by then I'll have some idea of where my bike will be coming from, too, since the frame I was hoping to be working on turned out to be too small.
Saturday was the wedding of Sarah Rose and Bryant Adams, two of my dearest friends. I realized during the ceremony how much of a community there is surrounding folk music in this town, and how little I've taken advantage of that this summer. And I had to shrug it off and realize that it's too late and I can only try to step up to the plate better in the future. The wedding and party were amazing, giddy fun. The next day I stayed in bed late and thus got to Julia's engagement party late, but I don't really mind missing time with the family. I was amazed by the number of people there, though, aunts and great aunts I hadn't seen in years, as well as the usual suspects. In contrast, Sarah Rose and Bryant forbade presents at their wedding, aside from potluck dishes; the presents at my sister's engagement party were a central part of the affair, taking everyone away from conversing and driving me into the basement to hide. I stashed boxes of things in the shed and went to Dan Romer's show at the Chance.
The Fireflies were a lot of fun, as usual, but it was weird to be in the Chance without knowning anyone but them; and no cigarette smoke, either. It took me a minute to realize what the difference was between my memory and the actual hall, and it hit me with the force of nostalgia: I could breathe. The cigarette haze of yesteryear created a mysterious, dark atmosphere, but I'd always hated coming home smelling of smoke and getting sick after a show; all praise to the public spaces smoking edict.
After the show I wanted so badly to hang out with Dan, have some drinks, chat up the ladies; but I knew that's not what I really needed, so I drove out to New Paltz to say hi to Dawn and her new boyfriend David, finally someone who seems to be good for her. What started out as a sleepy hello to a curled-up pair on the couch turned into a lively conversation, and I had to excuse myself three times before finally getting out the door at half-past midnight. Again, I would have loved to have stayed, but work in the morning dictated otherwise. I started falling asleep at the wheel just past the Ashokan reservoir, so I pulled over and slept until first light then drove into Binghamton, called the others, and waited. It was 10:30 when I finally found them despite not being called back or answered when I called. I'm glad I took yesterday off and was "let go" today. The money was good, but life is better.
"Purity of heart is to will one thing."