Beyond the Bubbles to This

A catch up day.  No travel.  Someone wanted to do a meeting in the city.  I’ll pass.  Let’s do it by phone.  If I massage the computer for five or six hours I might be able to enjoy the illusion of having ‘caught up.’  But the house after days on the road, demands my time as well.

Another Ayi has moved on.  It always seems to happen abruptly.  Once someone pretended to faint on the stairs, and then stood up frustrated and argued that they needed all their month’s pay, immediately.  This one had knocked in to someone else on a bike, and called Thanksgiving morning in spirited voice to say she wouldn’t be coming any more and, of course, needed all outstanding monies immediately.  I always feel sorry and suspicious in equal measure.  The parting logic is generally dramatic and rarely makes any sense.    

I clean and put away the dishes.  We need more dishwashing liquid. Someone filled the dregs in this one with water and there ain’t much soap left beyond the bubbles to this mixture.  What did they make in the oven while I was gone?  This pan is nothing but congealed grease.  I pour it into an empty almond container, toss it, and consider the kids dinner.   Chopping and grating now for the eggplant parmesan I'd schemed for later.  Smothered in cheese and stringy jinzheng mushrooms, I’ll put it in the oven later.

Something that ‘absolutely must happen’ today hangs over the morning like air pollution.  If it happens many people will be happy, and if it doesn’t many people will be frustrated.  Someone is nagging me about it.  “We should know by three.”  He is being nagged by someone else and calls me back at 3:05PM to relieve his pressure.  I cannot offer him any relief.  I turn to call someone else who has nothing for me, either. 'More time.  More time."  I turn then, and repeat precisely the same message.  This telephone-tag tension hangs about the air for hours.