Above: another toy mash-up in my workspace set up by my Grateful Deadhead coworker, Jerry
Jeepers, is Mercury in retrograde?
Communications have felt mystifyingly difficult the last couple days.
Instead
of setting up girlette fairground rides yesterday evening, as I'd
planned, I ate a pint of ice cream and went to bed early. The girlettes
didn't mind--they say we can do it later, it doesn't matter if the human
state fair is over. But it was a sign of my bummed-outness.
I looked it up:
Nope.
Life's just like that sometimes.
Actually, plenty of connections have been going well too.
My
art historian friend Allan and I have arranged to meet today at the
tapas place one block from me, where I would eat everyday if it
weren't so expensive, and I'll hand over the donated pre-1924 sheet music for him to photograph.
I haven't seen Allan properly since before Covid, so that's a treat.
I
got the keys for cat/house-sitting yesterday, and the owners prepaid me
MORE––because they'd asked me to water a few outside planters while
they're gone.
I'd told them they pay me plenty, I'm happy to water the flowers.
"You give us peace of mind," they said.
Well, I understand that. And they can afford it, it's not a hardship for them.
As eager as I used to be to go house sitting, however, I am now reluctant to leave my place. I've been here two months,
and I love everything about it. But the place I'm going is a big, fun house to stay in, in a great location near the lake and on the Greenway bike path to work. (The cats are quite old and not very interactive--they mostly sleep.)
So
that's all good.
But... oh, no, Mercury goes retrograde on September 9.
Keeping my head down and my mouth shut!
