24 October 1998
 
  Salty or Sweet  
 
    I woke this morning burning for facter.  It's not unusual.  As I gradually began my morning, showering, brushing teeth, dressing, the love of my guys swelled up in me, not so sad as it could be - as the way I love is bittersweet - but instead rather peaceful, joyful.  I thought about Zach, who is understandably apprehensive about meeting El Presidente next week in Dallas to get a few things that I am sending.  I thought about facter, am so thankful for his video journal, where I can see his mouth form words, watch his body language, hear his voice, laugh with him when he laughs.  I thought about Dataman, who chuckled so warmly yesterday when he returned my call at work, to hear me answer the phone, "Dry & Thirsty, this is Spring."  I thought about wlofie, who was dying of a boredom so profound that he was ready to commit a felony to alleviate it.  I thought about Robin, then decided not to think about him.  I thought about all my guys, who aren't mine at all.  Some have very fulfilling relationships with other women, and some belong only to themselves.  Doesn't mean I love them any less.  It means I love them more delicately, more subtly - most importantly - more distantly.
    I think about Jane at other times.  It's odd, that the memories and warm fuzzies of men come at certain times, and the same sorts of feelings I have for women come at other times.  It's rather like a hunger, as you ask yourself, "Hmmmm do I want something salty or sweet?"
    I miss Jane.  Whenever I think of the Pacific Northwest, I think of her.  When I think of tattoos and feminism, I think of her.  When I think of therapy and poetry and astrology, I think of her.  Herbs and scents and rituals, periods, cats, candles.  Lots of things make me remember Jane.
    
    I worked all day today, until well after six in the evening, despite its being Saturday.  All morning I packed internet orders that have fallen behind because there is nobody available to pack them.  All afternoon I cleaned the office, because there is no janitor and El Prez does it whenever he can manage, which hasn't been very often, and I'm becoming embarrassed.  I hate having people in for appointments seeing our grungy floor.  The floors are the worst, for dirt gets tracked in from the warehouse, and it arrives there by truck and van tire.  Last week we bought a wide broom and rag mop to compliment the narrow and extra wide brooms and sponge mop we had.  I know it sounds crazy, but I do a better job with an assortment.  The evidence is right there, all over the floor.  We also got some Formula 409.  This is because of the magic words, under the "Floors" heading:  "No rinsing required."  We got Simple Green all purpose cleaner to compliment our Fast Orange hand cleaner.  That's not really the reason, but I think it's funny.  We got a hand brush and dustpan to replace the ones that vanished.  All these got used today.  I'm sore.  A great deal of cardboard, shrink wrap, and broken glass are now in the dumpsters.  Some huge puddles of sticky liquid are now missing.  My hands have cuts all over them.  The warehouse is relatively dirt and glass free, and there is a mat at the doorway between it and the office, so maybe now so much won't get tracked in.  If I can get hold of some wax and a buffer, we'll see how nice it can get.
    Ugh.  Tomorrow I have to clean house.  Sigh.
 
 
 
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