S. Worthen | Weblog

For the second day in a row, I'm at home waiting for the mold people.* They haven't shown up yet. I'd be at home working even if they weren't coming, but there's something about waiting which I find highly disruptive. I can't listen to music in case they knock on the door. Naps to cure convention-lag are hazardous for much the same reason - and for the way they use up what hours I have today. I could go out if I wanted to, but I'd have to leave my keys.

In the past, I've waited at other of my previous homes for packages or painters to arrive, with equal lack of result. Usually it's been more frustrating: there have been other places I wanted to be - errands to run, friends to meet with, libraries to work in. At the moment, I am most likely to be productive by staying still, minimizing distraction, and just getting the edits and such done. But waiting, for all its quiet, is also a distraction.

* Known to most people as "contractors", the mold peoples' purpose in my life is to come and cure the apartment of a residual case of mold. They've finally committed to coming (there were insurance kerfuffles amongst other people which delayed them), but haven't shown up yet. Our mold was very minor compared to our neighbors. A washing machine flooded all day, six weeks ago. As a result, one neighbor had several feet of green fuzziness all over her walls; ours was never really a growth so much as a stain.