Like you, Socotra House is confronting several nagging projects of necessity projects that complicate the transition from Spring to Summer. One that is foremost on the minds of the staff- at least those who have need to periodically step from enclosed spaces to the welcoming Piedmont out-of-doors- was falling through one of the unsound planks on the spacious wooden veranda that towers above the eastern pasture.
You might have noticed there are some issues with working outside. Some of the interns, laboring to assemble the Chinese-manufactured fire-pit, became soaked in unusual perspiration. The Chairman directed the deck be repaired, and that the rains predicted by the Lady in Red be held in abeyance pending suitable completion. Then he left, claiming important business elsewhere. That left Eugene and an abbreviated crew to complete cutting and fitting startlingly expensive new boards, and then protected with the steady and practiced application of pristine new protective coating.
It is part of life in an awakening America. In that spirit, there are three or four seasonal projects in various states of precise confusion. For both the labor crews and Management the Age thing adds to logistic challenge. The Long Green Table was split between those who still had hair that presented in hues other than gray nodded absently. For those who are absent follicle foliage, or who lack of discernable vibrant color grimaced in sympathy. “Age” should be subject to truth-in-lending regulations like the medication ads on the flat-screen. A resolution was passed without comment saying that cautionary news will henceforth be delivered by someone in a white lab coat with serious expression reminding us that it is expensive, complicated and involves actual physical pain.
I have a pal who is in the process of withdrawing from urban life in one state and establishing himself in another. He is doing projects like we used to, which includes the lifting-and-moving thing, the hammering and painting thing and external relations, dealing with workmen to complete the various projects. That is just the baseline, with associated items like registering to vote and establishing connectivity from the High Plains to the low earth orbit and back. He has the ability to take on necessary work personally. The Headquarters staff has outsourced ours.
Eugene is back this morning. He only brought one assistant this morning, down from five at peak level-of-effort. Work was delayed with complications of product shortage and predictions of rain. There are partly cloudy skies this morning with the possibility of a window of aridity to let the work set. There had been moments of controversy in the reconstruction process, complicated between dialects of English. One crisis moment came when Eugene interpreted a comment by management to think the color of the stain is wrong. You can imagine the implications of gallon jugs of acquired stain being returned (or dumped) to replace with something a shade of two different and then being applied during a pounding downfall.
My position was: “Just get the color you have got on the deck and let’s get on.”
We are getting it on this morning, even if some muttered that “green” to match trim would have been better. The two non-project related vehicles have been moved from their favored positions in front of the garage doors to a place in the lee of the barn so errant airborne stain drops would not add to their rich finish. Limping out to each, relocating to rejoin the other, then the longer walk up the hill to a side gate and planting myself in the temporary lounge area on the grass and sidewalk in front of the formal door.
It was darkening and it dampened the mood, thinking the rain would be here in time to mar of ruin the project. Then a freshet of sun and a mild breeze. Hopes for successful conclusion mounted, including the possibility the deck might be dry enough to walk on and escape the HQ for lunch. Smokers in the crowd looked anxious.
Someone was out puffing a Marlboro a moment ago. Entry and exit procedures for the house with various elements of stain application in progress makes it more complex than usual. Eugene’s crew brings a boombox as part of the basic equipment kit, so background sounds have been country. Commercial country at moderate volume. I recall theme songs that were useful, as this one is to those working. Breakaway songs? The ones that blasted from the ship’s 1MC loudspeakers when separating from underway replenishment?
There was a string of notes about that awhile back, probably instituted by the Midway Museum Library looking for seventy-six years of meaningful sounds with which the ship had been associated. Meanwhile, the country is blasting. Our right feet began to twitch in preparation to dance on the wet stain.
We have replenished product shortages and the partial crew appears to be lurching toward completion. Based on conversation, the Comptroller suspects the estimated cost will float up.
It is a momentary return to government-like contractual process we knew well. It is a feeling of mild triumph saddled with the uncertainty of a set of variable but ever-larger numbers. We voted to hate being in the cost-plus business model. But as HR primly opined, “It is what it is.”
Copyright 2021 Vic Socotra
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