The restaurant, largely dead, the weather conspires against us daily.
Not just the weather, of course, lockdowns, restrictions, pandemic, construction on the Ferry landing, there's a myriad of reasons we're not hitting our targets, and frankly, I don't care. I'm largely exhausted, 10 hour days on my feet, doing little to nothing, polishing glasses, tables, floors, meaningless work so to ever-so-slightly mitigate the pain of my salary. The slowest it's been by far, and I'm enjoying "The break".
Days off, finally catch up with Stormy. He's not doing well, cognitive decline, you can tell - well, see it in him that there's not so long left. Compared to others his age he's slowly checking out. Forgetting things, tired, this scooter, prescribed by his doctor to alleviate the pain of walking on a broken hip, it'll be both his life and death, his lack of activity is catching up to him. It's the balance of age, at what point does the pain of existence justify it's continuance? But comfort is death.
I've a few hundred scrolls to unpack, but these long days at the restaurant don't leave me the energy to view them.
Deal with bureaucracy, pay bills, vaccines, days off are consumed with trifles. Prospecting - next days off, I've art projects to plan, writing I should be doing, supplies to be buying, shopping, groceries, and, god-damnit! Vodka to be drunk! But to fit all these things into a day demands better time management skills than I have.
Thrifting, today, a few treasures left unpurchased, a few treasures found. 2 Signed fan-photos of Councilor Deana Troy (??), the "Empath" from "Star Trek - The Next Generation", (her holding the hand of a little Klingon Child), and another fan photo of some pretty alien with head-bumps, both signed in glittery gold markers, perfect gifts for Ken.
Ken likes girls and while he's never told me I'm pretty sure he knows these two. We were talking about movies at work and somehow or another the conversation worked it's way into sci-fi - (Chris recommended I watch "Gentlemen Bronco's) - and from there it worked it's way to "DUNE" and here Ken began regaling us with quotes, non-stop, "DUNE" is apparently his Shakespeare...
So I can both give them to him and do a good turn and then take the piss out of him incessantly afterwards. Clearly this is what they call a "Win-Win".
I need a glittery gold marker of my own to sign things with. And an abundance of cheesy photos of myself.
Otherwise, lovely days and evenings in Nelson, although my time here is too scant to appreciate it - living in Nelson, ideal, working in Balfour, not so much. The irony of paying rent for a beautiful space that I am too seldom here to enjoy is not lost upon me, the summers - too busy to find time to be creative, and time spent creative is time away from prospecting. The balance here is not of days or weeks but of years, summers - prospect, make notes, work work work. Winters, - well, they should be the time of creation but the remoteness of Ainsworth, the poverty-budget of EI and CERB, they suck the creativity out of you.
So it goes.