April 2, 2008

Faux Organization






Warming the bench. 2008.




Duck: Fragmented. Didn’t remember anything of his day.

Me: Yesterday felt just a little better. Doing exercises, heating pad, pills before work. Some exercises after work.

G: Is my hero.

Work: Padre’s 2008 Schedule.
Yes, I was called in by the account manager and told that because they wanted to treat everyone uniformly, I would work the full hours for my position which were extended an hour. There were 200 some others waiting for a job. Yes, I was the best they had for this job. Yes, too, the new rules were the new rules. I urged them to reconsider. We were both so polite it was funny.

Ah well.

Good news. G found out about a lock down facility near us over by the back of the Sports Arena. It looks pretty new from a distance, and Duck won’t be able to get out of this one. I’ve discovered that he becomes combative if he doesn’t get his way. His way isn’t safe. He’s not a little old man fading into death peacefully. He would hate this if he knew.

We will still be near enough to visit. Progress.

Here….today Maria is cleaning. I’m running the dishwasher, running the washing machine, and shortly to be running the shower. In a desert, I’m using water that we don’t have. Today, rain…which doesn’t alleviate my guilt. I also need to remember to pack everything I take tonight in big plastic trash bags. Wet backpacks are not me. Neither are wet books.

Tired G’s are not me either. I’ve so informed him that he has to sleep every day until I call…..you know he doesn’t pay attention to me. No more setting the alarm and getting up around eleven just to find the game is still ongoing. If he does sleep in, he will get eight hours in two lump sums on the days I work. It’s no good if both of us are so tired we can’t move.

Sun now….the clouds are a wall off the coast slowly moving in. Tomorrow I have to be there at 8, Friday at two, and Saturday and Sunday G will drive me down. Slowly we inch back into the routines of broken schedules, of seeing each other on the fly, of communication via email, of passing hugs late at night.

1 comment:

  1. Don't know how you are going to manage. Just wish you had a better alternative, or at least enough political umph that you could "convince" your management that flex time is good.

    My dear friend's husband, who was suffering for years with the same problems Duck is suffering from, died peacefully in his sleep a few nights ago. He lived a brilliant and tragic life.

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Portland Union station Work has been sorted, and I’m home to sort my own things now.  I’ve gained roundness.  G says we are Mr. and ...