Life As Performance Art 74

It is hard to believe that it is just halfway through June, plus three days, I think, because we have been enjoying summer weather, more or less, since early May. It hasn't been consistently summer, but the warmer and drier days far outnumber the chilly and wet. Of course, this is climate change. It is undeniably and irrefutably climate change. It will stay dry and hot through August and September. The wildfires will return, probably in July and in August the smoke will block out the sun and choke our lungs for much of August. Now, when people from other countries ask me about when to visit my city, I tell them not to come in August, unless they want to go home with a chronic respiratory condition. This is sad, but this is our current reality. How times have changed, with our climate, and vice-versa, and things are going to continue and go on changing, more and more and faster and faster, because the horse is now out of the barn and we can only try to keep pace with him as he continues to run amok. I am still in my low sleep cycle, which means that it is now 3:45 am and I have been up for at least an hour. There are always interesting documentaries on the radio at these early hours, about a hot food program for children in India, about how aging changes the human voice, about environmentally-conscious fashion, about what birds are really communicating through their songs. Nothing about that dumb basketball team in Toronto, that otherwise dominates the CBC programming. Maybe just this week and then they'll shut up about it.... It is now 7:55. I was asleep for about three hours, and now I am almost a functioning human being again. I am in the middle of two stressors today: church and work. Today I will be speaking with two archdeacons about my problems with their institution. I have already written extensively about these outrages that were inflicted on me, and perhaps I shall write further, a bit later. At work, right now, the less said, the better, but I am taking care to not get a sympathetic colleague in trouble while communicating with the higher echelons about the importance of paying us better. I did have a cancellation this morning at work, which gives me more paid time to rest as I prepare for my meeting at the diocesan office this afternoon. The stress is affecting my sleep and I have to work with this. In 622 days I will be collecting my full pension and will never again have to rely on a mean-spirited and stingy employer to help keep me alive. I hope. In the meantime, it is a beautiful day. I will be leaving early for a long walk in our toniest and leafiest neighbourhood before meeting with my two clients today. There will always be, among the ruins, those many rare jewels of gratitude.