Thursday, June 28, 2012

A Taste

Friday pt. I
I swear, today, work is lasting far longer than normal. And I am even getting off a little bit early, in this position's standards anyway, nine to ten hours being the norm. All day long, strip varnish and look at the clock. Strip more varnish, burn myself with the heat gun and look at the clock. Tape up a section of fiberglass, strip, burn, look. A process that repeats itself.
A process that repeats itself.
Finally, 4:30 rolls around. I gather my equipment inside the cockpit of the sailboat, safely stowed under the canvas awning as to keep them dry over the weekend. The owners said absolutely to my asking permission to leave my tools on board over the weekend. Very sweet people. A man of about 50 and a slightly wonky eye, you can tell he has a few stories. He comes out in the morning and says, "Hey Jay. How are ya." It's nice to hear a greeting with my name in it, seems much more personable. Myself, I cannot remember names for the life of me. I have to meet you two or three times before I even start remembering what your name starts with. It isn't that I don't care (well, I don't to an extent), it's my terrible short term memory. A pathetic memory it is. Give me a number, I'll forget it in 15 to 20 seconds. If I am in the bathroom for example getting ready for work and I remember to do something before I leave, I will even repeat it out loud to myself over and over, but as soon as I stop the repeat process, gone, remembered half way to the city. That's the thing too, I'll remember what I forgot just a little bit after when I was supposed to do it. As if my brain is a simple, archaic processor, maxing out it's power after a couple thoughts, having to store away early thoughts to make way for new ones and once the new once have dissipated the old ones can begin to resurface. I can't remember his name.
She is a good-looking, middle-aged blondie, extremely generous. She comes out to make sure I have everything I need. It is raining so she brings me hot black tea to warm me up and help with a little vigor. I am assuming that is her kayak on their private little pebble beach, the word "MILF" in colorful letters on the side. I can't remember her name either.
My car is packed to the brim with camping gear. Two rubberware containers of dry, plum tree wood (pieces from branches that had broken off in my back yard during the last snow storm) sit in the back taking up most of the room. A sleeping bag, tent, crab trap, shovel and axe.

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