It is 9:02 AM on what would appear an ordinary work day. The day has already had an interesting beginning, but back to that later. There is not a soul in sight at any office. This is a clue. I have missed it. These are the District Offices – so this does not bode well. I called my supervisor and apparently wake him up, tho this is unlikely as he as 4 children that I know of. I start by asking “Why is no-one here.” he answers “How are you?” Oh – damn, I forgot the lead in – “How are you, I’m fine, how was the night… it was fine. How is your home….” Now WHERE IS EVERYONE?
I’ve given one of two sets of keys to a Program Officer who should be here, but it looks oddly like a holiday and everyone else knows but me. Twilight zone music in the background… Or was today simply cancelled due to lack of interest. Well that’s certainly possible. But no, I’m not picking up on the clues. In part of my mind I know that I’ve missed something, but for the life of me I can’t figure it out. Kind of like forgetting the rules at the last minute of a gme you’ve played all your life.
It started last night with my Smurf themed, plastic, zipper front clothing “closet” – perilously leaning, finally collapsed into a heap on the floor. Damn Smurfs. Partying no doubt – or sniffing little vials of blue Smurfette glue. (I have since camouflaged it with the beautiful Costa Rican wrap. Far right corner…) OK – dug out all clothes and transferred to an extra bed. Mice. Nothing of value is left on the floor: chocolate granola bars, clothes (good nesting material), etc. Finally onward to bed.
I have finally – after three days of trying everything possible – connected with the help of Trav – to my leasing agent in Austin. This has caused lack of sleep. Termite warning here (large, hungry infestation in the garage growing fat on LABE’s paper goods) prompted me to remember the lack of follow-up on the inspection I’d requested from my leasing agent for my Austin digs six months ago. This is synchronicity at work. Because the warranty had been allowed to lapse. All ends well I think because the good people at Robert’s Pest Control took mercy and and are extending the warranty with the condition that I pay the extra year. Best possible outcome. Termites serve as messengers… that’s a new one.
Into the night – the boom boxes in the distance rattle the windows. In a civilized universe this could also be a clue that it’s Friday night, but it’s being going all week. I had a good book and power. So far, so good, not counting the collapse of the closet. Into the night…
In my dream world courtesy of Mefloquin (anti-malarial meds) methinks, I am in a hotel with a bunch of realtors and have to get to the second floor and by climbing a rope ladder with circle rings in it while wearing 6-inch heels (which even in my twenties I did not wear). Once there, after a night of sleep I awake finding my hair (now a dark brown in the dream) all rolled up in fuzzy rollers of yesteryear and covered with not one, but two hair nets. In the night it appears that someone has not only dyed my hair but set it. I wander out and – to my great surprise – find that the security office is next door to my room BUT – they are all “in” on the joke. I awaken relieved that I’ve not gone mad, but I liked the pixie cut.
Now – as I sit here on the front steps of LABE – watching the Golden Rain Tree shed her blossoms and cover the ground in a carpet of bright yellow petals – I discover it’s a SATURDAY. Not only have I failed to leave work early on my half-day Friday, I have somehow lost two days of time here in the Twilight Zone of Peace Corps Uganda. I said to Geoffrey, my counterpart yesterday – see you tomorrow and he said “yes.” Maybe it was just “hmmmm” which can be yes – or I’m not listening. Apparently the latter in this case.
Truly, I’ve fallen into a black hole and need that rope ladder to climb out. Perhaps the chemicals I was breathing on the day I spent at home dealing with termites fried my brain. At the very least it appears to have reset my mental clock. Or…. somewhere in the twilight zone in a parallel universe it’s Thursday and a a brunette Peace Corps Volunteer is still asleep thinking it’s Saturday.
Going home to start the day over… and put a calendar by my bed to mark of days of the week.
I am not a well woman it would appear… Or I’m just living in a period of no time. Monday – Friday seems to have no meaning here. Everyday is the same, except for Sunday. You know it’s Sunday only because of the church music.
Have a good weekend – because apparently – it’s really Saturday – all day.