Progress is a Foot

A reasonably calm afternoon at the gallery. No major mishaps to report. Yesterday, however, I was careless and had a little accident. See, I have to crawl down off my ladder every fifteen minutes or so and slide it three feet to the right. Well, I placed my x-acto knife on the top step of the ladder, above my head and out of view, and when I moved the ladder, it rolled off the edge. I watched my knife execute a perfect swan dive off the top step, hurtling through space in slow motion, a projectile with a mission, and it happened to be in perfect alignment with my right foot. It then slowed down and hovered over my foot for a moment, suspended like the sword of Damocles, which didn't bode well for my installation. Finally it registered in my skull that I might want to move my foot, but a wee bit too late.

Now, anyone who's ever stubbed a toe knows that it takes a few seconds for the pain to make its way from an extremity to the brain. (Alas, the time lapse is quicker for me, since I'm short). Ever efficient, I used the time wisely and recited scripture to offset the impending pain: "Thrust in thy sickle, and reap: for the harvest of the earth is ripe." (Revelation 14:15) "For the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?" (Revelation 6:17) Surely not I, if I keep making these lame-ass moves with the ladder.

And then I watched and Lo! the sword pierced my shoe, then flesh, then bone, and verily verily, I was taken in the spirit back to Tourettesville, where my unrivaled profanity is so magnificent and mellifluous that I've been named town crier. But hey - no worries. I'm fine, I'm fine. I didn't really need that toe anyway, and it'll save me a little money on my next pedicure.

Fortunately, the line of type moved back to eye level today, so for the moment I'm off the ladder. Indeed, by evening I was down to the floor again. Which is easier on the neck, but my back isn't very happy. As far as the text, I'm up to chapter 9, where things start to heat up a bit. The bottomless pit is opened, a great smoke arises, locusts, scorpions--your basic apocalyptic varmints. It's all good. I'm at peace when I work. I love listening to the sounds of the building. I've gotten used to the heater turning on, and then the pipes clanking for a while when it shuts off. During the noon hour I hear Mexican music, so I'm guessing someone's home for lunch. And today there was hail mixed in with the snow, so I worked to the sounds of rain and wind. Time seems to stop after I've been there a while, and I'm always reluctant to leave.

I'm almost done with the second lap around the room, which means that I'm about to start lap three of the book of Revelation. With any luck, I should be half way done by the end of the weekend. Verily I say unto thee that in spite of amputating a toe, progress is afoot, and the end of the world is nigh.