I took a look at my work history, on our automated system, which only goes back to August 24. As it turns out, I haven't had a day off since at least that date. That ends today. I'll be relieved by one of the owners at noon today, and I don't have to be back until 7pm, tomorrow, for a staff meeting, which I might skip. We'll see. Working 15 hour a day for three straight weeks, outside responsibilities pile up. I'm sure I don't have time to take care of them all.
It's time to make wine. The Frontenac grapes I planted on my sisters fence six years ago are in their second year of full production. Last year's wine is ready to be bottled. There is a sacred harvest to gather. I need to get over to Brant Kingman's studio to see the Goddess installation he is working on for the ladies Boodoir. An Australian musician friend of mine is playing at Patrick's Cabaret tonight. I have to open a bank account with the check I received two weeks ago. My yard is a jungle, full of ripe fruits and veggies. Wash clothes? Meet with the potential buyers of my house? This list is far from complete. I'll be happy if I fulfill half of the responsibilities I have listed.
I need the time off. Two nights ago I intended to go to bed early, having had four hours of sleep each of the previous two nights. Instead, I had a few beers and pulled all the toy Uzi, AK-47 and M-16 guns off the shelf and built a monster on the show floor (I was up until 4am). A hideous creature, but too top heavy, and weak in the knees and ankles. I used spare telephone cord to tie the guns together, a mistake, because it wouldn't hold tightly. The monster collapsed. His lower half is still together, hidden in a back room. The hips are a problem. Turns out, it's no easy thing to make a pelvis out of plastic Uzi. I'll approach the monster again some evening next week, with the right materials. The damn thing will cost me two days labor, in materials; I hope at least it will generate some buzz for the store.
I could have approached the monster last night, but again, I don't have the right materials, and after cashing out the tills, I basically collapsed. Eight hours of sleep for the first time since...I don't know. Mid August? I would never live like this, except that I know this gig will end. I'm drawing on my reserves, I suppose, and it will only get crazier around here. If I don't take care of myself, I'm going to crash before the Halloween rush. I'm not going to crash. 282 hours on-the-clock since Aug 24, a 14.84 hour average, and I'm only a little foggy in the head. As long as I stay away from processed fast-food, and get a good night's sleep every third night, I'll be fine.
And my orange afro wig will be returned to me tonight. The last time I had it on, I was dancing in front of a thousand people. I've been dancing here, at night, and on the floor during operating hours, in my bright green Sgt. Pepper's jacket and burgundy valour top hat. The orange afro is something different altogether. The Jedi outfit is a great excuse to carry my swords (walking down the street during rush hour, ordering food at Tao Natural Foods), the Legolas outfit will be cool if I find, or make (I'm going to do that when?), an attractive long bow and arrows. But the orange afro? That's going to be so much fun.
It's a gorgeous Fall Sunday, and I'm about to be loosed into it, at noon. What a blessing.
This whole life, really.