Working the Summer

Diablo ate my birthday cookies. They were a present from the lady whose bathrooms will have my tile signature all over them. The result of the cookie theft was a severe case of diarrhea. Coconut is not good on kittie stomachs. She’s bouncing around on the prowl for Phoenix right now so she is no worse for it. I had left them on the table when I got home from work. I took a shower and went back into town, completely forgetting about them. Dad said he found nothing but crumbs scattered on the dining room floor.

I’m surviving the physical demands of the job. Swollen knees from crouching and kneeling all day concern me as I trot up and down the stairs to the wet saw where I cut the measured and marked pieces of tile. Work isn’t hard. Well, too hard. Most of the stuff I can figure out, but since I am working on someone else’s clock my time is now someone else’s money. When I’m projecting around my apartments as wasted day trying to figure out something is just another day.

Other ailments are the usual blisters, nicks, cuts, scrapes, bruises. And an occassional hand cramp. Killers.

My boss is a pretty good guy. His name is Steve which of course I wish it wasn’t, but I’m getting over that. He’s just a couple of years younger than me so there are times when we both are grunting and groaning after we manage to contort ourselves back into upright positions. I told him he really needed to hire a twenty one year old, but he said his girlfriend would not like that. I meant a twenty-one year old guy.

Steve is ex-navy and hires women with military backgrounds. “They are neater and more reliable.” Our only disagreement is the radio. I like to listen to talk and he prefers classic rock. The radio is mine, but he is the boss. Since more and more I am working alone, it is not a problem. The house does however have an Obama yard sign in the garage.

Summer seems to be disappearing. I’ll wrap up bathroom 1 this week and we will dive right into bathroom 2 at the same house. I’m dreading the part where I get to haul it downstairs. We really need to just throw it out the window.

Yesterday Steve asked what I was doing this summer. “Working at the track.” Steve has two more bathrooms in the Albany area. The money is one third as much and no taxes, but the drive adds two hours to any day. Plus gas. Hopefully a good portion of one bath can be done in July. That still leaves August and the track. But the next thing I know...there’s my summer.

Thank goodness I live in Hawaii.

As far as writing….forget about it.

I paid my taxes today. OUCH. But that's it.