june 21, 2002.

Christ, it's hot in here. One of the things I like about my study is that it has a long window that floods the room with light and reduces eyestrain considerably. But! My computer monitor has decayed to the point of near-uselessness; not only is it dark as pitch, but the surface is so reflective that I can't use it in natural light environments because the glare is hideous. Cue wacky theme music as I try to solve the problem...

Earlier this week I moved all the furniture around to see if it would work better facing away from the window. This did not make any appreciable difference, although I enjoy the layout of the study more. While I was still in denial about the new layout, I tried setting a large piece of paper over the monitor to reduce the glare. I ended up with a small ineffectual paper canopy. Ducking under the "tent" for more than 5 minutes gave me neck strain. Very few of my projects can be completed in 5 minutes. You can see the bind I was in.

So three days ago I decided to go back to the old staple: the coloured sheet tacked over the window with the overhead light turned on. Unfortunately, the only sheet not stowed away (read: the only sheet in lazy reaching distance) is a plaid flannel number. Which I had to wedge in the windows, thus turning my room into a closed, airless, flannel-wrapped shroud. The Greenhouse Effect is alive and well in my house, people.

This afternoon I climbed onto the desk and nailed the sheet into the wall. The theory was that I could then open the windows and let in some air. The reality is that air can't get past - all together now - the heavy flannel sheet.

So now I'm working in a hot, closed, stuffy, artificially-lighted environment. I might as well be a temp slave again.

I had a long talk with my mother last night, trying to clear up some things that were said the night I got hired. Neither of my parents congratulated me when they heard the news; instead they talked of various new problems this job will create for me and gossiped about local people in whom I have little interest. I took this philosophically to begin with, but after a half-hour I broke down & started sobbing. This clued them in somewhat, and the correct phrases were said at last.

Unbeknownst to me, this has been ripping up my mom for 2 days. She's been convinced that this was a major turning point in our relationship, and that I now despise her. I didn't know what to say to that, so I made up a joke instead.

"Mom, what do you get if you take away the y from yoga?"

"Um, I don't know."

"Oga."

Silence.

"Come on, that was funny. It's the kind of joke a 3-year-old would make when they're just learning about jokes. It's funny because it doesn't make any sense."

She still didn't laugh, but I kept repeating it until she giggled in spite of herself. Then we talked a little more about communication, but essentially everything was better after the 'oga' comment. Because I'm not mad: I was really upset that night, but crying on the phone really helped because they finally told me what I needed to hear. I wasn't holding a grudge because, well, I have better things to hold a grudge about (you hear me Ophelia?? (just kidding)).

Besides, Stacy & Dirk called me last night & they whooped & hollered into the phone on my behalf. I feel pretty good about myself right now; I don't need grudges to keep me going.

Stanfest preparations continue to steam along. Yesterday was the Boy's "weekend", so after a morning in the resource room helping kids with their exams, we set off to New Minas to find the remaining camp supplies we'll need this year. By far the 'funest' purchase was the flag pole; after much deliberation and several bouts of mock quarterstaff fighting in the store aisle, the Boy & I decided to get 2 4' wooden dowels and join them together with a peg. This, of course, took the entire afternoon to accomplish what with all the drilling and hammering and whittling involved. By the end we were able to fly our new apple-and-crossbones flag for a full half-hour. (And then I went and cracked one of the poles. Because I'm a moron with semaphore fantasies, if you really want to know.)

(By the way, mad props to Stacy for surprising me with this kickass flag. It's more than a gift; it's a whole new identity.)

We also set up Tenty in the yard again, as we had yet to give her the fine hose misting recommended in the set-up instructions (it helps the seams to swell up & close, see). I have to confess that I misused the awesome power of the hose a couple of times; there's just something in me that wants to soak my boy when he gives me advice on how to water a garden. He soon retreated out of hose range and was immune to my pretend deafness ("I can't hear you over the water! Come over here & say that again!") Ah, he's too smart for me.

My office has cooled down again with the onset of night. Good old sunset.