On my way to work today I saw a butterfly feeding from some flower. It dipped its antenna in and out like an addict frantically stabbing a vein in ecstasy or pain. They're the same really. I watched this for a while to waste time because I dread tuesdays like your average person dreads monday. On those days I have to clean the chapel bathroom for minimum wage. This wouldn't be as awful if the bathroom wasn't in dire need of renovating or de-molding at the least. Not to mention everyone else working on this property come to this particular place to leave their loads. That's right, be it as a rebellion to or for God, anyone and everyone comes in here to take their most horrendous shits. The kinds that splatter the toilet bowl walls and worse--creep onto the actual seat.
I usually approach the bathrooms cautiously. I sniff a little outside the door and then if it seems safe, I enter. Really I can't tell how bad it's going to be because the dampness is too pungent to sense anything else. Once I'm in,I disinfect the sinks, door handles, light switches--all of that--I do the toilets last. If the water is a frothy brown, I flush with my foot. If it's a stinking yellow, I'm nauseated for hours; and if the water is clear with its usual ring of orangish pink, I am relieved. Once the bathroom smells slightly less like excrement, I commend myself on a mediocre job done, then take out the trash. On my way out, strangely enough, two morning doves lure me to the window with their mutual song. They seem to have depth to their voices, and complex variation. If I didn't have garbage in my hand, I could have watched them for an hour perched on the stone wall just outside the window. I'd like to interpret what they were saying.
It would have been enough to just see that beautiful butterfly and a pair of morning doves than go on with my day, but of course things got weird. It's not like nature is common around here. It comes right up to you, but something was off about the way today felt. It felt backwards. The sky was gray but it wasn't raining. It began thundering only when the sun came out, and all sorts of bugs were flooding in under the chapel door to seek cover from what I could tell, nothing.
So with the trash bags in my hands I kicked open the door and whacked a baby gopher into the stone wall. I felt terrible, and it was stunned. I was already racking in bad karma points by hating that chapel and all that was contained in it. And last night when I saw the video of a lightening bolt hitting a giant plaster Jesus somewhere in Ohio, I swore I would become more positive--atleast around the church to avoid being struck down. Even though I didn't even believe in god, I was a bit nervous some bigger thing was mad at me especially with all these creatures flocking towards the chapel and making my job harder
After throwing away the trash with slight paranoia that the gopher would be seeking its revenge, I got the keys to the choir loft. More cleaning. Being the very efficient worker I am, I often find myself with an hour or more of free time with very little freedom to do anything with that time, so I clean more--mostly places that are designated to be done on other days. I enjoy keeping myself busy and at a good length away from my boss's chipper chit chat. And as you can see today, I especially need a distraction.
Now, I must warn you that what I'm about to say next will confuse and maybe disinterest you. I know there are no such things as aliens, unicorns, gnomes, faeries--whatever, but the last few time I've been having trouble with the door that leads up to the choir loft and this mystery can be put into the 'unknown' or even 'mystical' category. The organist, the preacher; no one else seems to have problems with this door but me unless they are hiding something. I put the key in the hole, push the door open until the uneven carpeted floor will allow it to open no more, and make sure what I am walking into is a hallway leading up. This is what one should see when they enter this locked part of the chapel. This entire section looks like a floor out of Hogwarts;narrow, dark, and magical-- I am not in the mood for playing Harry Potter. Anyways, sometimes I open the door and find that the stairs are leading down. Sometimes I find a door, two, or another hallway, and last thursday I found nothing but blackness. An abyss maybe? My routine is to slam the door shut, pant a few times (the surprise of what's going to be there always makes me hyperventilate), and then open it again. That's all it takes for everything to go back to normal.
Last night, I decided that today would be the day I stepped into whatever is on the other side. If I don't get to cleaning the choir loft, it's not worth fretting over. The only thing that survives up in that heat is pollen blown in by the wind and dead carpenter. What I was worried about was liking whatever was on the other side more than here.
It took me a little jingling and frustration to find the key, but this is ordinary. My memory lacks object details. Once I found the key, I open the door, feel the carpet jam and stood there. Again, nothingness. For a moment I almost step forward. This must be what a black hole is, but why is there no swirling? Why am I not instantly sucked in, arms and legs first like a bounded cow. I am not too worried about going, I am worried about leaving all that I know, though I apparently don't know it well enough to predict these kinds of thing. I explore the blackness with my eyes for clues; nothing. Blast! It's always this way. The vainglorious martyr or suicidal kook has to dive before knowing. Jumping once you know just makes you a fool.
I am weak. I do not have enough information to make a decision. I am also a libra. Wikipedia offered little help and even google shrugged when I asked and my legs won't let me follow my mind which is blanking/
I close the door quickly before I change my mind again. Maybe tomorrow, I say and look behind me to make sure no small animal is there.
to be continued.
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