The Weakest Week

Every day became progressively worse since Monday began at 6:30a. A bulleted list of highlights to showcase the anemic suspension of a soul:

  • Monday discovery in my recording studio class that the doors to the studio won’t open without brute force to pull the doors out due to the huge sucking of air that the Winchester Mystery HVAC installation has caused inside. Feels like hundreds of pounds of air pressure to pull the door open from the outside or push it open once inside.
  • The recording studio is only quiet when the doors are wide open to the hallway.
  • When the doors are shut, it sounds like one would imagine how the whipping blasts of wind resonate atop Mount Everest.
  • Rush off before class starts to attempt a load of laundry at SFWash on Mission St not far from the college. Find the dirtiest place I’ve seen in ages making some garage bathrooms look like a better place to launder one’s clothes. Disgust fills my insides as I try a washer. When that is done, I leave with a basket of wet clothes after finding hair and dirt around all of the dryers. Laundry basket is heavy and hard on that pain spot nagging at me from my lower spine.
  • Back at the studio and after class I find none of the usual places to put things away that have always been available (until this summer of hell HVAC installation) leaving me to schlep to remote locations yet again. Lower back pulls from the weight of a super heavy mic stand that I extended too far into a crowded room that my body would not fit into.  Left work at 10:30p after loading van with a ton of production sound gear for tomorrow’s class at another campus. (15-hour day complete)
  • Tuesday morning class is better, but I have to arrive an hour early since I’m unloading a car filled with production sound gear for today’s hands-on lab in the Sound For Visual Media class.  I’m already tired by 10:30a after several hours of schlepping and trying my best to be a stimulating educator. Lower back pain escalates.
  • Tuesday afternoon, I run from one campus to another to help fellow educators understand how to input information about courses into a new-ish program we are using. Volunteerism begins to wear thin in this second week of this. Beginning to limp a little now from the pain.
  • Run between buildings on campus off to another meeting.  Pain heightens.
  • One hour later, yet another meeting. Education is taxing .(double-entendre intended.)
  • I’m home by 7:50p and ready to crash already. 12-hour day complete. Ice pack on the back before tucking self in.
  • Wed morning, I have some extra time, so I steam and stir-fry all of the veggies in the fridge before they go bad using great care to try some new flavored oils and balsamic. I’ll have a burrito in the Mission for lunch before a long meeting all afternoon, so this veggie meal will be a perfect evening pick-me-up on break during class.
  • Proceed to leave tupperware of food in warm office (HVAC not yet working) to run off to meeting at another campus.  Return hours later to no time for self so class begins with the next song-and-dance from Teacher D!  Can only leave door to studio open  for another night of miking demonstrations because it’s the only way to silence the wind noise that howls in the room when the doors are closed.
  • Former advanced audio student and fantastic pianist comes in for us to record and for me to show miking piano techniques. I demonstrate to him why the studio doors remain open during this sound recording (a common “no no”). When the doors are closed the gale winds of the north cause him to double-over in laughter “Oh my God, what the hell?”  Yes, it’s frozen over.
  • Recording goes well with students feeling happy about their burst of new knowledge this week in lab despite the acoustic nightmare. I drive home at 10:30 somewhat content. I drink 1/2 of a bottle of a Lagunitas Stout with a shot of Bulleit Rye and I’m out like a light.
  • Thursday morning comes too fast and I’m off again to class only this time I remember that I’ve left a large tupperware full of cooked veggies in my office at the other campus. Oh no. I’ve wasted food!
  • I find every single route to the Mission campus fully blocked like some giant foot has landed in the middle of the city causing traffic for miles through every artery.  I remind myself that the city continues to build more and more high rises even though there is not enough room for those already here.
  • Mental note taken as I cross no fewer than 6 construction zones near the corners of many streets being upgraded by the SFPUC in an attempt to accommodate a city filled with more shit…literally.  Too many people in a 7 x 7 area. That’s 7 miles by 7 miles, folks. That’s it for SF.  Greedy Mayor don’t care
  • At one particularly long jam of traffic, I check my phone and see an email from my Aunt. The inevitable has occurred. One of my sweetest cousins has passed on to the other world leaving her body riddled with cancer back on earth. Rest in Peace, sweet Cousin.
  • Class arrival -song & dance with the technology and the gear; where’s my thumb drive with everything carefully prepared and loaded onto it for today’s class?  Digging deeper into my bag…Oh no. It’s not here.  Is it lost? Did I remove last years tax returns from it? Holy crap, is it floating out in the ether for people to check out and grab?  These thoughts go on in the back of my head as I turn back to class to keep the minds moving and excited to be there. I have learned to do 3 things at once in these past few years of hell in the workplace.
  • I hang around after class for longer than usual trying to avoid the reality that I know will sink in the minute I’m alone: my dear sweet cousin of 57-years-of-age is gone and the family needs me. Cancellation emails are written with truthful apologies. It’s time to face it.
  • I think of renewing my earthquake kit. Life feels too strange and the Girl Scout in me seeks preparedness.
  • The Russian Jew in me wants to drink some…not a lot, but just enough to melt away the pain…

So, when does summer really end?

Weakest Week

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *