Search This Blog

Sunday, November 2, 2014

In Recent Dreams

I had a Kindle the size of a mass market paperback book and I was just wild about it. It did everything I needed and wanted. I could read all my fav, escapist sci fi tomes, surf the net, access my email AND I didn't need wifi to connect. Also too, though small, I could tippy-type accurately and comfortably. It was awesome. And it fit neatly into my purse unlike my galumphing iPad.

Wonder if this actually exists AND if it's affordable.
I started a new gig at Harvard Press doing prepress quality checks. My new manager had spectacularly poor communication skills resulting in me learning about my new responsibilities with all the speed of a slug attempting to swim through cold molasses. My boss, despite being informed that I'm deaf (and getting the whole How Best To Communicate With Your Deafie spiel) didn't write things down for me when I couldn't read her lips AND she spoke so quickly that I suspected she'd dropped some Beauties with her morning triple espresso. On top of that, while imparting her gloriously valuable wisdom pearls, she would often turn her face away. Yep, even if she'd been speaking at an understandable rate, I couldn't see her lips to read 'em.

There wasn't a blue fairy's chance in hell I was gonna catch on to my responsibilities and how best to do them.

This has actually happened in past gigs. I'm a bright babe — I catch on fast BUT I'm not a mind reader nor am I able to gain knowledge through the simple act of sitting next to the office expert.

Incredibly and sadly, osmosis isn't one of my superpowers. Yes, this was a dream of the anxiety provoking, nightmarish variety.
 I was flying over the high desert. Not in a plane, no. I was zooming along at 10,000 feet just like Superman and bald eagles. Goddamn it was spectacularly wonderful. I felt free and whole, not slowed down by my bolloxed balance system. Hearing was superfluous — vision was god. It was all I needed.

Next life, I'm comin' back as an eagle. Or maybe as a supremely pampered house cat like, fer example, Coco or, now, Rocco.

Sadly, our formerly feral fierce warrior boy didn't do so hot with my week's absence. He spent the entire time hiding out in the basement rafters, only coming down for food (as long as no one was around) and litter box excursions (again, as long as there wasn't a soul about).

I've managed to coax him upstairs only once (the pay off was cubes of baked chicken in addition to major cosseting) since home. We're making progress though.

Now when I climb the ladder to visit him in his fortress of catitude he allows me to pet and skritch behind his ears. Baby steps, baby steps.

I should have as much patience with my own damn self as I do with poor benighted Rocco.

No comments:

Post a Comment