M is upstairs furiously drawing tiny minute scenes of a sailing cat’s life. She had an assignment to write a children’s book and decided that she would actually write a children’s book — on signatures with elaborate drawings on each page, 2 signatures to be sewn together, 2 copies to be bound with fancy endpapers.
It will be lovely. I personally worry about the physics exam. She would have an A for the class if she did well on it. Of course, if she fails she may spend the rest of her life up in her room drawing tiny minute drawings while her mother brings her trays of food.
It is possible she has inherited some of K’s more Asperger’s-like qualities.
Party planning is going well, in that the toilet is fixed!!! I had no idea how much it would increase quality of life to have a functioning toilet on the first floor. Here’s the deal — a lot.
So now there’s just the matter of cleaning the house, figuring out the menu, shopping and cooking. It actually looks like it’s going to be a sort of smallish group of less than 20, which is good because it’s projected to be sort of cold — so if everyone comes inside we will all fit. That’s good.
I actually like having parties, once I get over the horror. I will make N and M help me cook. That will be fun.
And then there’s the graduation itself, which is on Friday.
That will be fun, too.
I believe I am figuring out the source of the crabbiness. Partly it’s about M going away. Partly its about the worry of having things — parties, summer travel — floating out there unresolved. But a lot of it is about working in a construction zone. Day after day there is banging and drilling. People are wearing ear protectors at the reference desk. It’s wearing. Yesterday for some reason exhaust was being piped into our office, so we all had to scatter off to other open desks around the building, which meant calling in the IT people because there s no universal login to any computer. It’s just a pain — it’s all a pain and there’s way too much to get done before we move and everyone is crabby and frenzied and feeling put upon.
Annoyingly, those in charge don’t seem very moved by our plight. They did not respond well when I told them we were being poisoned. I think it may be the case that they themselves are overwhelmed by the whole business. Which I think just means that we are kind of on our own to solve our own problems. This is fine — we can certainly handle that. It’s always this fine balance — you have to handle your own problems which is fine until they decide you’ve done something they don’t want you to do, and of course, there’s no way of knowing what those things are until you’ve done them.
This is the problem. Those in charge are peevish themselves. I understand why, but it does make things a bit difficult.
So there’s that.
Anyway . . .