nuts

i awoke to an early morning of industry on the part of my client, nadine, today. she was at the old wooden cutting board, hunched diligently over a mountainish molehill of walnuts.

she was uncharacteristically silent about her work, but i stood by for a possible "how many of these things are there?" scenario, and the kitchen clock ticked its politely subdued tick while the minutes marched past.

it had been another quarter of an hour before she lifted her head, and wiped her forehead wearily. she looked down at her work, and then asked blankly,

"why did i chop these?"

and, as hard as it was for me to admit, i could not answer her.

as per my directive as a tiny observer, however, i had to collapse the waveform of possibility with a response: perhaps you've just gone nuts.

under

i was back down in the kitchen area for a supply run, and for nostalgia's sake i dropped by my old place. i looked at the under-the-hutch area where that jerk neighbor mouse used to live; now, compared to the cozy luxury of my behind-the-bookshelf penthouse, i wonder what i ever saw in the place. dust bunnies, right by the kitchen trash, and the cat food dish right out front in case you hadn't had enough horrible smells.

still, it was home for a long time...and sometimes familiar is mistaken for comfortable, which is practically a synonym for good. funny how the mind can pay tricks on one, even a very observant one such as myself.

now i wonder what else might be keeping me under with this familiar/comfortable/good subduction...under the china hutch of my own potential, as it were. reflect, dear reader: what keeps you under?

stray

"and you know who's going to have to clean this up, of course."

yes, nadine; it's you.

"and do they ever think for a moment about the consequences?"

no, nadine. they obviously do not.

"how many times - oof - have i told them that - oof - they can't bring in any old cur they find on the street?"

i can remember you telling them at least twice before this, nadine.

"and here i am again, scrubbing paw prints out of carpet. am i doing this for my health?"

no, nadine. your joint pain could not possibly be benefiting from this floor work.

"i should tan their hides...oh, they'll bawl, and I'll be the bad guy...but who's the one who'll be scrubbing the floor again next time they find some mongrel, eh?"

it will be you, nadine.

"dog-mad, they are. but if i'd went out, got them one for christmas like they asked, who'd end up feeding it, eh? walking it? would they be outside at four in the morning so it could squat on the lawn?"

almost certainly not, nadine. children under ten sleep remarkably soundly.

"dig up my yard, track on my floors, eat me out of house and home...i'm supposed to pay for this privilege?"

apparently so, nadine.

"can you believe this - the third time i've told them! the third time!"

it is hard to believe, nadine; but your tally is correct.

"how many times am i supposed to just get down here, hands and knees, and not say a word?"

i couldn't tell you, nadine.

"is there any reason for this, any at all..."

i am also unclear why they would bring a dog to you after repeated scoldings, nadine.

"oh, just look at this - look!"

i see, nadine. the dirt is quite well ground-in.

"they don't hear a word of it - but if i gave them a spanking, tried to leave an impression, what would i be?"

the bad guy, nadine.

"never listen - no one ever listens."

i do, nadine. i do.

work

you may have had occasion to wonder about my work as a tiny observer.

as well you might...

as a physical function of rhetorical phrasing, t.o.s are there to fill the space assigned to such phrases as "get a load of this guy." load-getting is a reasonably easy case, much less time consuming than a "i worked and i slaved, and where did it get me?" project. the history-building for such a contract is made even more difficult by the open-ended phrasing, which prohibits any sort of time parameters with which to work in.

my current contract is with an older woman named nadine, who who needs a lot "look at the state of _______" work done. it is not very onerous, but the frequency of the phrasing means i'm on-call most of the day. the physical hazards are not very great, as she has joint pain and her movements are quite limited. she needs regular "can you believe it" work done at the post office, however, as she's involved in some sort of long-term grudge match with the staff there.

but no matter what she's facing, i'm right there with her. usually on her her shoulder, peering around her ear.

it is vital work, actualizing the linguistic forms of people; in creating an invitational space through phrasing in language, anything could be called into being. a tiny observer both validates the client, and by being there precludes the need for ravening creatures from outside reality to manifest in the mundane world. it's good to do something you can feel proud of at the end of the day.