Location: Watershed Heights basement, in the nursery
Temperature: 21° Celsius
Humidity: 23%
All of the seedlings are situated! They look so peaceful in their little nursery, all snuggled up under the peat moss and grow lights, with the plastic sheeting misting over ever so slowly as they breathe. The fluorescents flicker softly as I oversee the dozens of benches filled with child-plants. It's cozy.
I just hope they'll survive the transplant shock...I couldn't bear it if one of them died.
Time: 10:09 am
Location: Watershed Heights Basement, across from the nursery, in the remnants of the boxes
Temperature and Humidity: Same
God, I hate unpacking. And I ran out of wood and screws building benches for the kids, so now I know I'm going to have to find a hardware store if I want shelving for books. On the plus side, I found a mattress. And a dresser. Who just abandons stuff like that? The mattress is only a little stained, and the stuffing is mostly in. It might smell a little funny, I suppose, but really. Cat pee is actually quite nice, once you get used to it.
Time: 10:31 am
Location: Watershed Heights basement, office/sleeping area, next to the remnants of the boxes.
Temperature and Humidity: Same
THINGS TO DO:
> Go to hardware store:
- 16 8 foot 2x4s
- 5 pounds of 3 inch deck screws
- 1 1/2 inch sheet of plywood
- humidifier
- potting soil
- compost bin
> Deal with...people
> Build shelves and finish unpacking
> Make posters
Time: 11:15 am
Location: Same
Temperature and Humidity: Same
There. That's one item off today's list - I've made the reward poster, though it is a bit strange that it's written in blue magic marker. I think my black Sharpie was in the same box as my compost formula...yet another reason I firmly believe that undergraduate students should be left in the dark to rot. Especially helpful airport ones.
Time: 11:17 am
Location: Same
Temperature and Humidity: Same
Drat. I need more than one copy of that stupid poster, don't I? Now I'm going to have to get back on that damn bus to find a copy shop. Wonderful.
Time: 11:30 am
Location: Watershed Heights Lobby
Temperature: 23° Celsius
Humidity: 24%
There's some crazy woman being eaten by an instrument in the lobby. I don't care if she waves at me, I'm not going to wave back. She could be unstable.
Time: 11:34 am
Location: Watershed Heights Lobby
Temperature and Humidity: Same
I left a Bartlett pear (Pyrus communis) seedling and a note explaining the tree was intended to pay my rent for the basement on the concierge's desk next to the phone. I do hope she takes care of it.
Calm down, Margie-girl. There's nothing to worry about. If the floor keeps going like it is, by the time that tree is big enough to transplant into another pot there'll be enough dirt on the black-and-white (is it?) tile to sustain it as a freestanding organism.
Time: 12:45 pm
Location: The stop for Bus #73 across from Watershed Heights
Temperature: 29.4° Celsius
Humidity: 42%
God, I'm so glad I'm out of that death-box.
Time: 12:46 pm
Location: Same
Temperature and Humidity: Same
I bought some tape while I was out making copies. That should work with the posters, if it doesn't rain tonight. I've already stuck one to the mass of fliers papering the outside of the stop...where to next?
Time: 1:20 pm
Location: Watershed Heights basement, in BED
Temperature: 21° Celsius
Humidity: 23%
I am getting too old to be out wallpapering the town like this. My knees hurt, my there is sweat pouring from under my straw hat, and I just know I'm going to have to wash my hair tonight because my bun is completely ruined. On top of that, I'm going to have to call my stuck-up podiatrist because my orthotics are sliding around again. I don't need his smarmy, self-satisfied speech about how I really should take better care of my feet. For heaven's sake, I'm only 57! I'm not dead yet!
Hmph. I'll stick around for another 40 or 50 years out of pure contrariness. That'll show him.
Time: 1:59 pm
Location: Watershed Heights basement, in bed
Temperature and Humidity: Same
Oh dear. I must have nodded off for a moment. I might be a touch older than I thought...
Time: 2:18 pm
Location: Outside Stop-n-Shop Grocery
Temperature: 29.4° Celsius
Humidity: 42%
Will God smite me if I steal a cart from the grocery store across from a synagogue? If I move fast enough maybe the lightning will miss me. Can I move that fast?
Anyway, I'll bring it right back. I can't carry 16 2x4s and a sheet of plywood by myself. That makes it better, right?
Time: 2:42
Location: Nuts 'n Bolts Hardware
Temperature: 23° Celsius
Humidity: 24%
Hmmm. This place is...adequate, I suppose. They lack completely any sort of decent garden center - not a single package of blood meal, if you can believe it - but there were a few depressed tomatoes, and a selection of organic potting mixes. That said, they did have all my shelving materials in stock, and a humidifier, so it wasn't a total loss. At least it smells right - that perfect co-mingling of chemical smells, dirt, grease, and sawdust makes me feel right at home.
But that doesn't change anything. The manager is going to get an earful just as soon as I get around to writing a decently comprehensive letter of complaint. This place is in violation of at least 37 hardware store requirements.
(And don't worry, little tomatoes. I'll be back for you the second I get your home set up. Hang in there!)
Time: 3:00 pm
Location: Watershed Heights basement
Temperature: 21° Celsius
Humidity: 23%
Where did I put that blasted saw? I know I packed one - it was in the same box with my power drill and tape measure.
Time: 3:04 pm
Location: Same
Temperature and Humidity: Same
How the heck did it get under the mattress? I know I didn't put it there.
Time: 6:24 pm
Location: Same
Temperature and Humidity: Same
One shelf done! I think that's enough for tonight...I'm ready to fall over. Bedtime...
Time: 9:39 pm
Location: Watershed Heights basement, in bed
Temperature: 20° Celsius
Humidity: 21.5%
Humidity: 21.5%
What was that!! Someone is outside. They'll probably try to murder me in my bed. Where is my hammer? I need something to keep the potential rapist-murderer outside away from me.
Time: 9:42 pm
Location: Second step leading out of the Watershed Heights basement
Temperature and Humidity: Same
There's a shadowy...something tapping around out there. I wish I could see better, but the streetlights are broken, and my glasses have fogged. Damn vision.
Time: 9:43 pm
Location: Same
Temperature and Humidity: Same
Wait! There's a bus coming...maybe I can see whatever it is in the headlights. It might be the only useful thing it ever does...
Time: 9:44 pm
Location: Same
Temperature and Humidity: Same
Oh. It's just the man who runs the old cinema. What's he doing out so late? No one in their right mind would goes to the movies at this ungodly time of night.
I am very sure working on Saturdays is unnecessary, but if they'll pay me for sitting around and taking notes, I could sure use the money. Don't even have to teach those languid teenagers. I must log at least 6 notebooks every Saturday at work.
ReplyDeleteCeilí hopped from the bus to the curb, a little extra pep in her step. Conveniently, that hop carried her over the grimy puddle of murk in the street. The hop had become a part of her daily routine, and it got a smile out of the bus driver every time.
8/28/2010- 2:49:47- Bus 52 arrives at stop. 6 including me exit. None enter. No one on the playground.
Not surprising; this endless rain has left everything soggy, and it feels as if nothing has dried out. I guess the kid who normally plays here is someplace dry.
Nope! There he is, over by Watershed Heights. Ahh, that's why, that woman with the big brass horn is playing outside. That reminds me...
8/28/2010- 2:51:15- XX18 is outside Watershed playing for crowd of 2 kids, 1 teen girl, 2 men, 4 women.
Walking around the roundabout the long way for a better view while pulling the notebook out of her sleeve again, Ceilí was struck in the side of the head by a small, dense, fast-moving idea- though she liked the prospect of being able to look over the notebooks and compare the data, the process of cross referencing each note was easily the most time consuming activity she committed to, and painfully boring despite the potential of all the notes in those notebooks. The rare gap of sun through the clouds eked a glint out of the sousaphone, and the unexpected glare gave Ceilí's mind a whir, and once the spinning had stopped, the kernel of thought remaining was brilliant.
A computer. The cross referencing takes so long because the notes have nothing to do with each other. I can't carry around all of my notebooks, one about the lightbulb, one about the rats by the Heights door, one about the rats by the fountain, etc. Impossible. But a computer.. All of the notes right there, I just have to go to the right area.
Naturally, this was not the first time such the computer had made itself evident as an alternative. The arguments for computers were well planned in Ceilí's head. There had simply not been enough money before to go through with the idea.
Ceilí was forced to send the idea to the back of her head when she realized she'd passed the opening to Watershed Heights and was now circling the building. Ahead of her, a woman scurried clumsily from the street, arms full of long pieces of wood and a large bag, and headed straight into an old metal door at the base of the building. In her haste, one of the pieces of timber fell from her load, landing on a beer can with a crunch, alerting the woman to its new position. The woman turned back, scurried over to the wood, and began to lean over to pick it up before realizing the futility of her situation. If she picked up the board, the rest would tumble from her arms. She looked around, mumbling and scowling, until her eyes caught on Ceilí.
Ceilí jogged several steps towards the woman, who seemed to shrink back from the approaching stranger, and picked up the board with both hands. She stretched our her arms and set the wood down on top of the stack still in the woman's hand, noticing that the woman had more wrinkles on her face than she'd a right to when carrying so much stuff.
"My name is Ceilí Thompson, I live upstairs. I don't recognize you, did you just move in?" she asked as she turned the knob to the basement door. It opened with a high pitched squeaking-grinding noise.
I guess I found XX49.
Ms. Pigg rolls her eyes back at marjorie
ReplyDeleteyou're hot marjorie ;)
ReplyDelete