Stairs and Hands
I just went to the Rubin Museum of Art with Mother of the House. It’s our favorite museum and they have some fantastic exhibits going on right now.
We negotiated the stairs up and down from my apartment, the stairs to and from subway, and in the museum itself. I’ve begun to feel badly about living in a place where steps are so much a part of getting around. If you can’t do stairs, visiting is really out of the question. I live in an inconsiderate place. It cares nothing about knees or backs, or the ways that decades of living bend a body. Stairs have cut people out of my life. There are people who know not to come here because they can’t make the climb. Visiting my apartment can kill someone with a heart condition.
We did stairs today. We’re doing normal things again. This, this is wonderful.
I dodged work to get this day. A client called (one who has been giving me full month workloads at a clip) and I told her no. She was perplexed by my response. The way my day job works is that there are no weekends. Clients work on 5 day weeks, which requires work to be ready for them Monday morning. So, I type through weekends. I type through holidays. The only time off I get is when I don’t pick up the phone, which is fine, until I slowly run out of money.
TLOTH: ”You know, I need to have a day off every once in a while.”
CLIENT: ”Oh. Oh, yes.”
TLOTH: ”I can’t work seven days a week without my hands crapping out. I’m just trying to keep my hands from crapping out.”
CLIENT: ”Oh, yeah, of course! I totally understand. That would be terrible.”
I needed a day off to go to a museum with my mother, walk up the stairs, sit when we needed to, and look at incredible things. The Rubin is a wonderful place to do this.
I am not made of ambition today. I am not failing at anything today. Today I am letting no one down. Today I am walking, sitting, breathing, and here. I will type tomorrow and chew up my hands. I will write tomorrow and chew up my guts. Today, I am here.