For some reason....
It’s almost 10:30 the night before the umpteenth annual Carolina Mountains Literary Festival opens, and - although I certainly could fall asleep right now, having been up since 7:00 a.m. (not my usual time). I have to be up at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow, so my friend Mary and I can take Jim’s van to the storage unit where all the LitFest equipment and supplies are stored, and load up and tote stuff all over town. Fortunately, this is a small town.
I can’t go to bed right now - unless I want to sleep on top of a bare mattress with two dogs, either one of whose shedding is worthy of a chapter in Ripley’s Believe It or Not. All the bedding is now in the dryer. Jim’s spending the weekend here, as he has an author, along with his wife and dog, staying at his house, and has to get up at oh-dark-thirty to put the finishing touches on his guest prep.
For some reason I cannot understand - even though I recently had someone renting the guest bedroom - with a twin bed in it - less than a month ago, there are no twin sheets in that room or anywhere else in the house. So, I made up the twin bed in the guest room for Jim with my clean set of double sheets (he does not like to sleep with dogs, and I can’t sleep without dogs). The sheets on my bed were due for washing, but I have been busy for days and didn’t think about it until late tonight.
Not only are the guest room twin sets missing (I had four sets), the hanging shelves (like you might store pairs of shoes in) from the guest closet that I stored them in are also missing.
It’s as though someone walked into the house, ignoring thousands of dollars’ worth of art, books, and tools, and went for the bedding in a closet. Mind you, I like 600 thread-count, so it was good bedding, but still…
So, though I’ve worked my butt off all day (not that it shows) to help pull together the kind of LitFest stuff that - if you do it too soon - will change and I’d have to fix it using Sharpies - I can’t go to bed until the dryer stops.
I’ve checked the online WaPo news. There are no more crazy emails. I’ve played my Solitaire. Which means there is nothing left to do while still awake except A) do dishes or B) send out a Buttondown so that you all can enjoy living vicariously the life of an overly willing and committed volunteer. I think I should be paid for the volunteer work I do, don’t you? I’m really good at it…
I think I hear the sound of dry bedding tumbling. I have this bizarre dryer that doesn’t have timed settings - just “More Dry” and “Less Dry” or something like that. I rarely use it, as I prefer to hang my wash, but I want to crawl into a warm bed tonight
I’ll do the dishes when LitFest is over.
Cheers,
Lucyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz =snork= zzzzzzzzzzzz