I smell like cat food. I spent today packing 19-pound bags of le fud de cats at a warehouse near my place. Another day, another job. Work’s also included spending Saturday walking through apartment complexes, leaving ad fliers. I can walk normally again now…
I’ve been quiet. I feel like I’ve been licking wounds (and have no one to do my licking for me, heh heh) after starting a job that would have gone on for a few months but which, um, didn’t. I’ll say no more about what happened – I doubt I even know everything that did happen to get me out of this job – so what I’ll say instead is that I took time off after that. My parents’ house thirty miles out of Portland was unoccupied during the past week-and-a-half; I went there and took over two rooms with old photos of mine, and organized them into photo albums. It’s an early birthday present, all these albums, so I can catch up on this massive backload of pix. We’re talking photos back to 1985, from the first full year I was getting my hands on cameras. (I used those "disc" cameras that were smaller than a standard single-lens reflex camera, and about the same size as today’s digital cameras. They also were pretty impervious to being banged about by a kind of clumsy boy named Chris.) Now hundreds of those shots are safely on pages, easy to see. And thousands await further album-making. Journey of a thousand miles and all that.
(But trust me, I’ve been a habitual photo-organizer since the early 1990s, thank everything. I have – let’s see – twenty-six-and-a-half albums of the photos I took after getting my first good camera, 13 years ago. This project, so far, adds five albums (well, five-and-a-fifth) to that. Plus there were three albums of a seemingly haphazard selection of those ‘85-to-’90 photos of mine. Had I not become an organizer, I’d’ve been the first victim of catastrophic photo-stack collapse.)
I’ve been home for just about a week after my little vacation at my parents’ place. Nothing earth-shattering since then. This has been an update.