64 hours

64 hours is what I worked this past week. I haven't worked less than a 48 hour week since I returned from funeral leave. Staying busy does help to keep one from dwelling on things, but I'm starting to feel a bit burnt out. Too burnt out to do much blogging, anyway. I've been tryoing to get around the neighborhood to comment here and there (commenting doesn't usually require as much thought); if I haven't been around to see you lately, refer back to the title.

I'm beginning to realize there's no way I can keep up with all the garden chores. I expect this workload to continue more-or-less indefinitely. We're shorthanded as it is, and due to the city's perennial budget crisis, reinforcements are not forthcoming. Even if they were, they usually have to be trained for at least two years before we can leave them on their own. Next year it looks like I'll just keep the flowers and plants closest to the house, and of course continue maintaining the trees she planted.

I worry most about the babies. Thalia is constantly irritated with me. Cockatiels need to have a regular schedule, and there's no way I can do that. Not only do I work nights, they call me in to work day shift on my days off, and that messes us all up. Thalia doesn't like being woke up before sunrise, or getting put to bed before sunset, and she definitely hates my sleeping in the middle of the day when she's most active. Tara is more philosophical about the situation; she's become used to my odd comings and goings over the years. Of course, she's at the point in her life where I don't know how much longer she'll be around. I know she's lonely at night. She can't curl up with Mama any more, and her brothers and sisters are all long gone; they're all with their Mama once again. I imagine them running through shaded woods, and the green fields and the beautiful flowers of the Summerlands; a place that's never too hot or too cold, or too wet or too dry.