I am waking from a nap.
Work. Well, work is work. I’ve filed last Friday in a place that won’t be disturbed ever. I find myself holding out for the new manager to arrive. Hopefully when she arrives things will begin to turn around. Until that day comes, because I do not have other steady employment I will stay put, keep to myself and watch as co-workers quit, become frustrated and more unhappy. I work every day this week. My next day off is Sunday. There is not much I can do at work but work. I’ve resolved myself to do just that and since doing so my mind is quiet. There are things taking place that are way beyond my control. So be it.
November felt akin to mental concentration camp on my part. I went 40-50 days without a day off between Custom Framing, Design Contract work, Opening my online Art shop and writing for this Blog.
I managed to save enough money to ship the remainder of my things from Vancouver to Saint John. And the balance owing on my student loans is lowering month to month as I vigilantly place half of my income on the outstanding balance. Another few (plus) years to go.
Wednesday of last week I spoke to my ex-boyfriend who just happened to give my vintage kitchen table away, that I had painstakingly refinished bringing it back to it’s original luster, to his brother. Fuck you! Sad thing is if you get to angry at this man he withdraws and DOES NOTHING. When he does do something it’s pretty big and has a lasting effect on your pschy. I calmly told him to retrieve my kitchen table from his brother (who in no way shape or form gives two shits about me) repack and ship it to me immediately. He knew I NEVER planned on leaving it there and more than that would never give it to his brother.
Thus far only one oversized box has been shipped to me. That box contains four oversized original paintings and a hoola hoop which just happened to get wet because *dumbass didn’t place a tarp over the box in the rainiest city of Canada while transporting them to the shipping company from my friend’s house. Then he left while the company was on the phone with me. He just left. The company tells me on the phone that the box is wet. They ask me what is inside the box. I answer ARTWORK! They ask for my permission to open the box and offer to repack the 5 by 6 foot by 12 inch box at an extra cost mind you, to inspect the artwork for damage. So $332.00 later my box will arrive this Thursday.
Two of the four paintings were bubbling. I am four thousand miles away. It is all I can do to remain calm over the phone with the shipping company as he details the damage. The shipping company offered to crank the heat over night before repacking and shipping them the following morning.
When my friend Tomoko had gone out to her garage last Tuesday to inspect the boxes early last week she noticed one of them had disappeared and that all it’s contents including my CD’s, expensive software for my computer, handwoven blankets and a very cool IKEA step stool were on the garage floor. The vintage kitchen table was no where to be seen. She was flabbergasted.
I’m a tad pissed. Tomoko is pissed.
How is to possible to still be in love with someone that makes you so furious!
*That is my theory. Tomoko’s garage is dry. The shipping guy told me it was raining all day.