Blue-Footed Musings

Somehow, though it’s not my favorite book or film genre, I’ve been on a bit of a horror kick lately.

• The other night I watched a French shark-attack film called Under Paris (originally titled Sous la Seine). I’ve seen my share of shark films (Jaws, Deep Blue Sea, The Meg, and probably a few others that were forgettable). This one fared well in comparison. Story: a scientist tags a shark and monitors it until it unexpectedly turns violent and kills her whole team. Later, the signal from the tag is discovered in the Seine river in Paris. What is a marine animal doing in a fresh water river? Though still struggling emotionally with that grisly event in her past, the scientist joins forces with the police to find the shark before it hurts anyone else. The film had just the right amount of ridiculousness, it escalated perfectly, and it had a spectacular climax, not to mention that it was in French (subtitled, not dubbed). I loved it.
• After the shark film, I starting watching Stranger Things on Netflix. I’m late to this particular party, I know, but whatever. I do things when I want to, not when the rest of the world thinks I should.
• I also recently read a Southern Gothic by T. Kingfisher called A House With Good Bones. I struggled with the book at first. The author’s descriptions were confusing me. But, since I had preordered the book as a way of showing support for the author, whom I follow on Twitter, I felt a strong compulsion to finish it. With perseverance, I got past the communication issues, letting the story wash over me without focusing too much on certain details. There wasn’t much to the story: entomologist Sam Montgomery is temporarily out of work and goes to live with her mom in her grandmother’s old house. The mom is behaving strangely, as if terrified, and weird things are happening around the house, all seemingly linked to something dark and mysterious in the past. I’m not not sure that I love it as a horror story, but the main character keeps up an entertaining patter of bug trivia mixed with amusing observations on life (“snarky mundanity,” one blurbist called it). The book is worth reading for that alone.

P.S. I liked the phrase “snarky mundanity,” so I looked up the author who had used it in his blurb for A House With Good Bones. His name was Travis Baldree. I figured that if he’d written anything that sounded interesting, I’d consider seeking it out. As it turns out, I need look no further than my own bookshelf. A friend gave me a copy of his book Legends & Lattes as a gift. It’s just sitting there, waiting to be read. How serendipitous!

I’ve been having a rough week at work. Yesterday I pointed out to my boss that, through no fault of mine, there was a massive flaw in the computer-generated project I was working on. She forwarded the info to her boss, and his reply was that we’re probably going to have to dump what’s been done so far and start again fresh. Ugh.

Funny thing is, they reacted like, “Oh, no! Suddenly the computer if malfunctioning!” But it might have been working that way for a while, only nobody else bothered to look into it. And in situations like this, I’m never quite sure if I’m the good guy or the bad guy. I mean, I hate being the nit-picker. And sometimes I think that maybe things would be better for everyone if I just quietly did my work without worrying too much about doing it right. Other people do that, and they get away with it. But not me. I keep finding problems and making more work for everyone, myself included, because I don’t know how not to.

My boss had been on vacation for two weeks, but she finally returned Monday. This could have been a cause for celebration, because she’s a great boss and she usually has all the answers. But, the first e-mail she sent upon her return was a notification that three people in another department had been laid off while she was gone.

This sounded really scary, my coworker and I agreed over IM. These were long-term and reliable (as far as we knew) employees. There was no reason to let them go except as a cost-cutting strategy. We wondered if our department might be next. My coworker audaciously e-mailed our boss, asking, “Are jobs in our department on the line?” Her reply: “I don’t know.”

So we continued to speculate. We both feel that the groundwork has already been laid for downsizing our department. There’s been a huge push to use recycled material, which requires less time to edit and fewer people to handle the supply chain. Today, we got notice that six projects per year are going to be cut from our department. That confirmed it for us. That’s just a touch more than one editor’s yearly work. They tried to pass this change off as freeing time for us to work on “special projects,” but A) We don’t have that many special projects, and B) The largest special project involves beefing up a database that could later be used to eliminate yet more workers.

My theory is that we’re going to lose two editors: one from my department, one from neighboring Acquisitions. My coworker thinks three, divided in some way between the two departments. Whatever the plan is, I expect it will be revealed soon. There’s no reason for the company to draw this out. So, at least we probably won’t have to wait long to get the dreaded news.

Though my coworker and I doubt we’d be the ones on the chopping block, we can’t be sure. We are among the most highly paid, by virtue of having been there the longest (we will both hit our 30th work anniversary next year). And we are both terrifyingly aware that by staying in one job so long we have effectively put all our eggs in one basket. The idea of having to get a new job is almost inconceivable to us. My coworker said, “I got this job by answering an ad in the newspaper. Nobody does that anymore. It’s a whole different game now!” Tell me about it.

So, whatever the outcome, this episode has made us sad and wary. Working all these years for a family-owned company, we’ve been insulated from so much of the nasty stuff that happens at other places. Now our trust has been broken. Money is money, and right now, like it our not, our worth is being evaluated in strictly monetary terms. So now might be a good time to mention that I specifically said in a previous post that while I might be bored with my job, I do not want any Evil Genies forcing me into something new. That still stands!

• After a few weeks of sleeping in most mornings, I’m starting to feel more like myself again. Emotionally I’m doing a lot better, not constantly on the edge of tears (though that new work laptop sure was pushing me in that direction!). Mentally, I’m not quite back to where I was, but I’m hopeful that more sleep, plus more exercise, will help. Physically, I’m in rough shape, and now is the time to fix it. I’ve inquired about the free personal training session that my YMCA membership supposedly entitles me to. Waiting to hear back…
• One of the expressions I use occasionally is “What the ever-loving Hell!” After using that expression today, I thought to myself, “Just what about Hell could be described as ‘ever-loving’?” I have no answer to that question. Hell is not known for its loving.
• Fireworks are great, but I think there’s a limit to how late one ought to use them. It was bad enough that people hereabouts were still lighting them off around 12:30 last night. But when I heard more fireworks at 2:00 a.m., that pissed me off. The holiday, which had been well-celebrated, was over, and it was past time to quiet down.
• Speaking of great fireworks, the town’s firework show was awesome this year–best grand finale I’ve ever seen in a local show.

• Thunderstorms tore through town one night last week, knocking out our electricity. With neither fan nor AC, the bedroom was hot, and sleep was nearly impossible. The next morning found me sad and grumpy, up early because I couldn’t sleep, attempting to work in the little patch of light coming through my office window, trying to be quiet because Livia was sleeping in my office (her bedroom had been WAY too hot for sleep), and having neither eaten nor had my usual morning beverage, because I couldn’t use the toaster, or the microwave, or the electric kettle, and because I didn’t want to open the refrigerator, which hadn’t run for hours. In this modern world, living without electricity is a challenge (and apparently causes run-on sentences). When the power finally came back on, at about 9:00 a.m., I was incredibly grateful.
• I got a new work computer last week, not because I wanted one, but because the old one had worn itself out. Many of the company’s programs don’t work on the new operating system, so everything’s jury-rigged in an attempt to replicate the old functionality. I’ve been trying to sort it all out since the new laptop arrived on Thursday, and I’m sorry to report that it’s already brought me to the edge of tears several times. A lot of things just plain don’t function as they’re supposed to. And very little works like it used to, which is hard to adjust to when you’ve been doing things the same particular way for nearly 30 years. Now everything my “autopilot” knows is wrong, and it’s crippling. The work I did on Friday would have taken half as much time on my old laptop.
• I had my annual physical not too long ago. I wore a mask while I was there, my theory being that the doctor’s office is where all the germs are. At the front desk, they asked about the mask, wondering if I knew that masks were no longer mandatory. And then a nurse asked me about it, too, wondering if I was wearing the mask because I was sick. The questions surprised me. At the doctor’s office, I would have thought masking was still normal enough to go without comment.

• I worry sometimes that if I say (or write) something that sounds wishful, then that “wish” might be granted to me, but in the most awful way, as if by an Evil Genie. To forestall such an event, I often add caveats to the things I say. You can see it in my post from the other day. After writing that I was sick of my job, I clarified that I didn’t want to lose my job. This is a form of superstition, similar to “knock on wood,” and I ought to be above it. But I’m not.
• I’m still happily reading Watchers. It’s well-written in some respects (great metaphors, beefy verbs, not a lame adverb in sight). But, like so many older books, it has things in it that are cringe-worthy by today’s standards, as well as things so dated that they’d hardly make sense to younger readers. Isn’t it funny how some books can last hundreds of years and others can barely eke out a few decades?
• There is a woman who has a piano lesson immediately following my music lesson. She had a mountain-climbing accident a few weeks ago in which she hurt her arm and hand. Last Tuesday was her first time back since the accident, and we chatted briefly as I was on my way out and she on her way in. She’s bummed because she used to be able to do 100 push-ups per day before the accident, but now she can’t do a single one. She says she’s not healing as fast as she used to, and she wonders if it’s because she’s over 60. That floored me. I can’t do a single push-up either, not because I’m over 60 or because my bones are healing, but because I’m weak. I’m not sure I’ve ever been able to do a full-fledged push-up. I’ve never been able to do more than a handful of the modified ones either. Damn, but she makes me question some of my life choices!

• I’m sick of my job. I’ve had the same job for nearly 30 years, and while I still enjoy it sometimes, it’s not as much fun as it used to be, nor is it likely to get better. In saying that, I’m not asking for the Powers That Be to bring about any changes in my life; I’m grateful for what I have and perfectly fine being bored at work as I collect my easy paychecks. I am starting to think about how I might change things for myself, though. If I were to leave my job, how else might I earn a living?
• I was having a tough time finding a book to suit my mood, so I picked up a favorite that I hadn’t read in years: Watchers by Dean R. Koontz. My copy is an old paperback that’s sadly splitting up the spine as I reread it. I’m technically not supposed to buy books right now, but I ordered a used hardcover copy to replace it. (There are some things I must have in life, among them readable copies of all my favorite books.) Meanwhile, I am enjoying the book so far, though it bugged me, as it always does, when one of the main characters fed chocolate to his dog. Chocolate is toxic to dogs. I wonder how many letters the author received about that. Probably more than a few.
• I’ve been very stressed out lately, but I expect to be done with most of the stressiest stuff over the next week or so. Then it’ll be smooth sailing for a while, I hope.

• It’s tough enough that my husband and I, at 50+-years-old, are starting to feel the effects of age on ourselves. It’s worse that we have to see our parents suffer age’s extremes. And it’s worse yet that we know we’re headed in the same direction as they. Seeing them now is like watching a slow-motion movie about our own dark future.
• It’s amazing how contrasts affect how we feel. My office is pleasant to be in right now. The air conditioning has been on for most of the day, set for temps between 73 and 76, which is right in the comfort zone. But it feels frigid after being anywhere else in the house. My bedroom seems oppressive after being in my office, but it feels cool and dry after being in the master bath, which is hotter and moister. Downstairs also seems hot by comparison to my office, but if you come to it from the outside, it’s like heaven. Did I mention that the entire Northeast is under a “heat dome?” Yeah, we are. In June, before summer has even started. That’s climate change for you.
• I have to ship my work computer, and it’s stressing me out. I am even more stressed now, after having tried to ship it according to the instructions I was given, because that plan failed miserably. Why is it that the things that work for other people almost never work for me? Am I cursed?
• I cleaned my desk today. This was not a decluttering. It was a cleaning, as in an earnest attempt to get rid of dust, crud, etc. Now my desk is quite a bit nicer. Too bad there’s still so much clutter….
• I told my music teacher that I’m taking the summer off. I really needed some time off, plus there are things happening during the summer (classes for the kids, vacations, etc.) that are going to get in the way of my lessons, and I just don’t feel like dealing with that. Do I feel bad about kinda leaving my teacher in the lurch? Nah. He has completely different rules for summer vs. the school year, and I’m just taking advantage an option that he left open. When I asked him what I should work on over the summer, he said I must finish my current piece (oy!) and also recommended that I work more on music theory (double oy!). Have I mentioned how much I hate music theory? I’m pretty sure I did. It’s the math of music, and I do not get it!