Peacing out

window shopping with Flora

The temps were down in the early 70's today, like Good Times or Happy Days or Alice, and someone said it felt like Fall and I thought , no, that's alarmist, that's enemy propaganda or something there, and a prime time line-up from hell, to boot.

Then when I got home from work and into my cell, an old desire returned to me, one I haven't had in my new life forever.

Hermitage.
Old movies.
Not a chance of a knock on the door.
Shades drawn.
Anonymity.

The Keg.

Six months since that shadow has passed over my thoughts. It wasn't a true desire, or blind impulse, thank goodness. And it wasn't an irritant either.

But I have to admit a forlorn feeling welled up, almost like nostalgia. (Nostalgia: about as complex an emotion I'm capable of having still, and I don't like it. Never did! really. Nostalgia makes me want to sit in a tub of hot water until I let out the drain and then I don't get up until I'm just sitting there naked and cold. )

My old desire to drink has been so completely absent, I don't even include the subject in my prayers. Never "lord, help me not drink today". But this 'disease' is tricky and I do have to be wary. I consider today a slip, actually. I'd have rushed to a meeting but I go to meetings everyday anyway, sometimes two or even three. Maybe should have called my sponsor, he'd have been thrilled.

My work place was like a busy little city today. Strangers in the forklift roads, palates presenting a brand new city street plan with odd byways and dead-ends. Earlier this week it was like an empty stadium. I'd look around and spot someone a hundred yards away, disappearing.

Good! We are busy. The company, unlike most daily papers, is growing , after changing into a major publishing business. There's a new contract for these Electric CO-OP magazines, from out of state now. Here, in our home state, each county has it's own edition, or cover anyway. I wonder how many counties New Mexico has.

I started to think, 'say'.

say, say...

Maybe I arrived here on the ground floor just as the company itself is on the ground floor. I mean, maybe this is home and I turn old and gray here and rich enough never to worry.

That lead to the stanger thought that work ain't so bad. It gets you out of the house. You like to get out, work with people, meet characters like the opera singer we have who loads trucks. (He sings gloriously and not just to himself but to entertain all the people who line up in their cars and wait for the afternoon editions. I should say, sometimes he sings. Usually on Friday afternoons. I guess when he's happy!)

Work is good. There's the intrigue still with the circulation department and returns (me). I have settled one of three major issues with CIRC so far, with the help of my great new friend Doofus, who spies for me. Doofus is also smart, and it's funny because I'll suddenly realize, hey, this wasn't my idea it was Doofus who put me up to this. My latest "idea", I caught him whispering to me. It's to announce to all carriers that there will be one day (announced to them well in advance) I will count ALL returns, and reconcile everything with their manifests and the accountants' books. After that, I'll allow the obvious truth that I can only spot check usually, BUT, you never know, after this day, when I might have ANOTHER special inspection day.

Doofus may have it in for me, I don't know. He acted a bit amazed at our first accomplishment, kind of like and older kid who'd egged (edged?) me on to play a prank or something.

But it's a good idea, even when you factor in my bad alcoholic motivations, which are numerous and Machavelian. Good for the paper, good for the advertisers.

Good for the good guys who play it straight.

wrapping this up. Time vanishes at the keyboard and I'm up early tomorrow (NYTimes to Topeka Day). No re-reading or editing this so pardon the clumsy.

Season change, nostalgia, a brief relapse to hermitage, a renewed interest in the public sphere, you might say. All good. And I will start to include the obvious in my prayers. God please don't ever let me drink again.

"thanks, I've had enough".