Week of October 29, 2023—
An interesting, meaningful or weird thing daily
October 29, Sunday, warehouse—The order of loading the pallets went sideways, so we conferred in the staging area, big as a high school gym, the Rohan of the warehouse. Then, we six sped off toward the coordinator’s desk. I fell in after the last pallet jack, echoing their urgent purpose, my face extra urgent.
I skipped high school, and went straight to Yale
October 30, Monday, warehouse—Tom sweeps the warehouse so the forklifts and pallet jacks don’t stumble. He’s 60-something, paunchy, with heavy-lidded eyes. I was setting up the load line, and he ambles up, “Watch your back.” I blink, delighted. “You’re doing a lot of lifting. Watch your back.”
October 31, Tuesday, warehouse—A group observed us briefly on the load line. When they left, I said to Tyler, as if defying the administrative types, “I know we’re androids, but we’re not zoo animals!” That’s how I manifested having to try a new wearable (wrist) scanner. I hate new equipment.
November 1, Wednesday, warehouse—My Co-Star today: “Trust your body,” and do not do “spiraling.” I’m panicked about my bid. I can’t get injured—we’re living on my one small ($17.50) check. But it’s a little grueling at 50, and 150 pounds of no muscle. But I’m doing it? Five days a week. Six, soon, through the holidays, to January 1, 2024. I also have a fever. I caught it from Rachel, who just started clinicals.
One thing Rachel said—I exhausted my emotional and mental energy at my last job, unsupported, but I’ve always had pretty good physical energy. I shouldn’t conflate the energies. I’ve got this.
November 2, Thursday, petsitting—We’re watching the sweet, elderly poodle again, and her peoples’ house, from the 1900s, is cozy and compartmentalized; like our 1900s house, living, dining, kitchen, foyer (and four rooms upstairs). For them, it’s living room, den, dining and kitchen. But music is everywhere here, walls of CDs, records, cassettes, books about music—a house of listening rooms.
November 3, Friday, petsitting—I was walking the poodle out front when a neighbor in a green barn jacket approached, walking a dachshund in a matching coat. “Is that Mindy?” (I changed her name). Yes. “But I’m just watching her, so I don’t know how she is with other dogs,” to politely head off socializing, as Mindy is 100 in dog years, and almost exclusively takes the air in her own backyard. But the dachshund lunged and growl/barked in her face.
Mindy stepped off with no injury, and led me to her backyard. She cavorted in good spirits for another quarter hour. So, as her humans are at a funeral, 600 miles away—
But the neighbor emailed the owners, apologizing for a “nip.” Reader, I saw no nip. Mindy’s owner was gracious, but I’ve hovered and doted for three days now with a fever, and now seem negligent. I would never have let the neighbor leave if it had been a real problem.
Who could bite this baby? A few hours later.
It’s also Rachel’s 39th birthday, so I bought a slice of Black Forest Cake (!) from Red Fern en route to pick her up from school. I heard about the start of clinicals, and am so amazed and proud of her. Everything she’s touched, healthcare-wise, has been immediately immersive. From the Coast Guard teaching her to draw blood, to her school saying, “Okay, just wash this hospital patient, now.” Her language has become specific, accurate and compassionate. We’ve left the room of “lady parts.” Good by me.
November 4, Saturday, petsitting—I’ve still got this cold, so I finally watched Dazed and Confused. Parker Posey and Matthew McConaughey! At around the same age as Parker now, I kept thinking—they’ll crash their Chevelles. Takeaway, the 90s loved the 70s like the 00s loved the 90s. Inspirational takeaway, if you can you dig it, how Pink stands up for himself. “I may play ball, but I will never sign that.” It makes me want to get really good at one thing in tech, and then rock it. “If you want this, hire me.”
This isn’t him, but the guy who played the freshman
(Wiley Wiggins as Mitch Kramer) grew up to look like this.