Work & Days Off
Sunday, JR's back - better (was he ever sick?), keen to work hard from 11:00 until 2:00 when he's off to catch his Ferry. In 2 weeks he's worked almost 3 hours, he's trying to prove his worth to his parents.
I'm not making this up.
The evening, slow, a very few tables but I have some regulars, preposterous tippers, that make up for the shortfall. 40% tippers. This is ridiculous.
One, a writer, author of a soon to be published spiritual autobiography, chatting to me at the bar, he's just having the final draft checked for it's "field of consciousness" rating.
"Clayton?" I ask, referring to the owner of a particular machine that beams consciousness into the world, whom I've referred to abundantly before. A major Nelson employer.
And, small world, so it is.
***
Monday morning, volunteering at the thrift shop. Get it done. After which lunch, the library, thrift shops, a few errands. Listen to the ambulances come and check on the homeless people in a stairwell, underpass, fire trucks, the weather, so-so.
Tuesday, up early, coffee, then Dentist. And this is the first time the hygiene tech completes the cleaning. The electric toothbrush, it's gotta be doing something.
Then, again, library, tacos, library again. Then to the Gym. This is the last of my punch pass, I've used it all up, musclebound and 2 weeks early. Now to buy another.
Treat myself with a trip to DQ.
***
The Car is proving a disaster. It's needing every fluid - gas (of course, they all do), oil, transmission fluid, power steering fluid, antifreeze, the fucking thing is leaky as a sieve, and there's no prospect (apart from my lottery ticket) of my buying another. Live with it.
These fluids need topping up every tank of gas. Not that I buy full tanks anymore, half-tanks only. But it's a snowball of debt just keeping it marginally on the road.
***
Wednesday morning, A* in the kitchen wants me to take her rock hounding. A few places, old haunts, we collect some garnets, fluorite, quartz crystals and silver specimens.
I'm sitting on a gold mine if only I had a place to upcycle it. A toolshed. An apartment. Anywhere, really. But, as it is it just weighs down the car.
I'm feeling the need for a place to live, but I have to wait until I've slain a few more debts...
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A fools economy
And I've been doing the math, this homelessness, it's gotten a bit much. Even when I have a vehicle to stay in the expenses mount. No place to cook means all meals are taken out. A couple hundred bucks per week. Coffee. Another hundred. Gas, and the revolving expense of a perpetually broken/breaking down vehicle. The inability to entertain, or sit up late on the computer and write, or get at a few overdue rock & art projects.
It's costing me far more to not have a place than it would if I did have a place.
Out of pocket costs and Opportunity costs mount.
So, time to resolve things in my head, it's not forever but it's time to start looking for a place to call home...
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Ainsworth Hotsprings
The Pools, now priced at $18 and by reservation only, prices subject again to increase in July.
Because people will pay.
The restaurant, for dinner, Bannock and Mussels to start. The Bannock is really a scone. The mussels, they've changed the sauce, now only white wine. Meh.
A half dozen servers, the place is full.
For a main we split the steak - 10 oz NY. It's OK. The vegetables are good.
They have posted signs - 20% minimum gratuity for parties over 6, tipping options on their machine run 15-20-25% - stupid. And a mandatory 12% gratuity on all to go orders.
Service is fine.
It's all fucking preposterous. H* - new hire - talks of working there - she describes it as "if people who new nothing about restaurants opened a restaurant'" and she's right, 100%, and yet still they're successful, largely due to the lack of reasonable competition.
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The Daughter Visits
On a break, from working at Sun Peaks to going treeplanting in Williams Lake, 4 days in the paradise of Nelson.
Only, of course, the weather was no paradise.
So, time spent hopping from cafe to restaurant to cafe to restaurant to bookstore to bars...
We pick her up a copy of Elizabeth Smart's "By the Stairs of Grand Central Station I sat down and Wept", The Epic of Gilgamesh, "Don Quixote", Cervantes, there are many many more, Heroditus, Lolita, Pale Fire, Spekes, The Conquest of New Spain, I make my recommendations but we can't find them all, recommend podcasts, to audit university lectures, download, masterclasses, free, listen to when in the bush, keep the mind going.
I realize the lack of touchstones, her years abroad didn't broaden her education in any sort of direction I'd recognize. In conversation, "Rime of the Ancient Mariner", Albatross, she doesn't get it, she's unable to recognize a Monet, Klimt, Klee, Mondrian, Cezanne, Degas, in short she's never learned what is what, there is still time, university and all, we go up to the hotsprings, soak, and then that is that and she is off on the summer's adventures.
I'm stuck spooning her snowboard until I can get to the locker...
She chastises me about not having the hospitality to offer her a sofa, and I'm starting to feel it, this homeless schtick is getting old, has been old for a while already...
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