December 1, 2021

Picked up the intriguing amounts and varieties of trash that gathered on my lawn. Left the big bear mess at the entrance of the lilac tunnel for another time, not having the stomach for it right then. Got all my art supplies together from house and office and set them on the front porch for Allyson to pick up for her school. Empty drawers and shelves. The oils might be too sophisticated for gradeschoolers, but teacher may use them herself.  Painting “51" in orange on my mailbox may be the last time I have an oil brush in my hand.  AT&T cancels my technician because there’s a systemic outage and, I imagine, all hands must be on that deck. No satisfaction to me. There was no hurricane, no earthquake, and a systemic outage does not excuse the loss of nor return my Internet to me. Wild with rage and sadness. Do not intend to be patient. Do not intend to be forgiving. Do not intend to be rational. Why do companies offer services they cannot provide? The house is silence and isolation.  In the same vein, the Discernment Committee has not completed the Parish Profile three weeks after the absolute and final deadline they set themselves, ten months after any rational end point. I’ll be the one who has to say, “The Discernment Committee clearly does not intend or is not able to provide a Parish Profile. Should we not do it ourselves?” and then get blamed for hurting everybody’s feelings. 

Laundered the unthinkable bedclothes. 

Working hard on the trimmed and revised Tub. Lost 7000 words.