Odd Post #2

Remember last week's 'Odd Post?'

Well, here's another one. 

Things have gone better...and worse this week. 

One of my most difficult appraising jobs ever is finally in the home stretch. But there will be more screaming, yelling and fussing (not by me, incidentally) before it's done.

A pesky problem has been solved for Brickworks' sales tax collection.

The chickens are slowly starting to lay more. I hung a few ears of sweet corn, hooked on bungee cords, on the branches hanging over in their pen. They are loving this new jump-up-and-peck game.
 

And I have next week in Cheyenne to look forward to. The Cheyenne Heritage Quilters are having their annual show in Cheyenne, WY, August 13-15 -- stop in for a some beautiful quilts and a lot of fun!)

So why don't I feel more peaceful about it all?

Because I'm tired. And after a flush of relief earlier in the week...discouraged.

It's not fun having to deal with people who make it clear that not only do they not like you -- they don't respect you, either. (And they don't care who they tell that to.)

It's no fun to feel uncertain at times. (Although one can deal with it.)

I hate watching the Brick struggle and suffer and hurt more this week. (His job situation has not gotten any better -- if anything, it's worse.)

The Mama's health has not been that good lately. (Could well be the heat affecting her.)

James Holmes' theatre murder trial has finally ended -- and Holmes gets life without parole. He's shown mercy, even when he showed none. In Colorado (maybe everywhere?), every single member of the jury must vote for the death penalty, for the convicted murderer to be considered for it. (And they weren't unanimous. Even if they had been, the governor can come along later and pardon the person, instead. He's done it before.)
    Obviously someone felt sorry for the guy. Well, I don't. The only comfort in all this is that Holmes won't be able to skate early, like he might have if he'd been found insane.

The weather's hot, stuffy and humid...even though there's been a slight tinge in the air at night, hinting that autumn might, just might be moving in soon.

I applied for a great writing job -- thought I'd gotten it -- and this morning found out I didn't.

No energy. A counter full of dishes and piles everywhere.

Life could be a lot worse. Really. Gripe, moan, complain: mustn't grumble.

Maybe I just need go vacuum or something...and suck it up.