I’ve lost my words. Or at least, I’m stuck on a record loop. Not at home, working lots of hours, not doing a whole lot of interest in my free time that I can ever recall when people inquire about it. And now I want to pause my post and review the differences between enquire and inquire and check to see if I’ve used the right one. It’s amazing the delay tactics the editing backbrain comes up with when it doesn’t want to go to the effort of generating an interesting story. Let’s all take a thirty-minute break and research the etymology of words from Shakespeare’s third play. Or we could remain here and I could keep attempt to focus over the “ooh shiiiiny” impulses the coffee is giving me. The flavor was nice, but the aftershocks are weird today.
So what’s new and what’s old in Avon, CO? New is the shrunken days countdown. Seventeen days, which breaks down to only twelve days of work, five days off, ten days at my official place of employ and two days helping out at a different, short-staffed restaurant on-mountain. No more doubles, only one more night shift, and I have managed to impress upon the chef that I really, truly, with all of my heart cannot be talked into staying for the summer. He’s moved on to negotiating for next winter. New is the melted body of water in the local park. Is it a lake? Is it a pond? Is it an overgrown puddle? No one seems to be very decided on that point, but it is a pretty body of water that can be walked along and admired in its ruffled spring glory. New is spring, even though there was hail and snow early on this week, and there’s a growing sense of coming summer. New is only serving sixty people during a lunch service, an odd feeling of calm at work, a pressure decrease that can be well welcomed. Time to read and lay around in the sun even on days that I worked a shift. I’m not packing yet, at least not much, I’m resisting. One more week and things can be suitcased with more resolution.
No more grocery shopping for me here, I have a carefully plotted out menu which should use my available groceries to their maximum while not causing me to suffer from malnutrition. Time to scrape the cupboards bare. As long as I can avoid serving myself the dreaded ramen/tuna/mayo bowl that was rumored to occur at the end of dorm living for certain siblings, I’ll consider my provisions to have held out in good standing.
What’s not new, or in other words, what old recycled news should I include in this post? I still stick to the established paths between work, apartment, library, and coffee shop. Not much explorating occuring, although as the snow melts more and more, I become more tempted to randomly step off to look around inviting corners. Barefoot, of course. That’s not news. I pretend to run and do core exercises every now and then, although I’ve been fairly demotivated lately, without even the excuse of huge work hours or co-workers stress. Everything remains quiet on that front, thankfully.
Not new are the continued frustrations of employee housing. I feel more and more like we share no common ground the more we interact through the season. At least we’re still maintaining a polite veneer in our face-to-face communication. I’ve managed several outside activities this week that kept me out of the apartment, which relieves some of the close proximity, prolonged time difficulties. One Business Finance class, one Leadership Techniques class, and one company awards dinner. I still like classes and quizzes and spreadsheets full of numbers, if you were wondering.
There are also more needed activities to complete for end-of-lease cleaning. Yesterday I disassembled the oven and electric stove top, scrubbed everything down, degreased and uncharcoaled the hidden compartments and put it back together. Only a few new scrapes on my hands from my enthusiastic scrubbing. It’s somewhat amusing to me, I’ve gotten much better about avoiding cooking burns and scrapes but that progress all goes down the drain as soon as I’m working in the dishpit at work or scrubbing stuff at home. Steel wool goes through fingers very easily, is all I’m saying. But none of it is servious or painful, just something to look down and remember Wednesday by.
Two years ago, this point in time seemed nearly impossible to reach. Commit to two years among strangers, constantly switching jobs and people, never stopping over at home for more than two months out of the year? I don’t think that was an easily predicted maneuver for homebody-me. But I’ve done it, I made it through. The triumph of completing a task I set out on with trepidation. It wasn’t what I expected it to be and the lessons learned haven’t all been anticipated ones. People at home have changed and I have changed and going back to home now won’t be the same as staying home two years ago would have been. At the same time, though, I’m still just me and a me with more skills and confidence in my career should do just fine settling in at home for a while.