The Renaissance Festival was a lot of fun. I did a little shopping (not for me) and had a surprisingly good lunch and enjoyed the shows and the vendors. In particular there was a place with clothing made from hand-woven fabric (cotton--wasn't the cotton gin invented after the Renaissance? Oh well) that was soft and lovely and I wanted it, but there were no price tags and I figured that meant Too Much For You, Lowly Mortal, so I didn't inquire. I also enjoyed the swords but the only ones I really wanted to own were a couple of rapiers, and they were too expensive. There was a girl in a clothing shop who said, "Would you like me to tie you up? Please may I tie you up," but she was probably talking to Eric and not me. Jen left a little early to avoid the rush, which was a smart move. Everyone in the car going home was in favor of creating costumes and maybe setting up a booth next year, so I'd say the trip was a success.
I had a discussion with my supervisor yesterday. In it, he said, "I don't want you to be the go-to person for proofreading anymore. That does nothing for our group." I protested (mildly) that we hardly have any proofreaders, and he said, "That's not our problem." He was also quite disappointed in me for failing to notify him that I was working on the tasks he asked me to work on and asked me about whether I'd be interested in a particular area he wants our group to get into. I'm uncertain but he pushed me into saying no, then said he was going to have me try it anyway and if I hated it too much he'd find someone else. "We'd probably have to hire somebody," he said, not quite accusingly. In fact he'll probably enjoy hiring someone to replace me. Or maybe he'll just buy a potted plant.
Today, he sent me a paper of his I did a tech read for and said, "Proof this." Shortly afterward, Bess begged me to pick up a proofreading job she'd been needing a proofreader on for days. I sent a message to my supervisor asking if I could, then (when he said yes) told Bess he was why I hadn't said yes earlier. She promised to smack him around. Just now she came to me and said, "I punched him. He came in and I asked him what was the big idea? It's not like we have enough proofreaders as it is. I railed on him. Then I said, 'I hope you're not coming for something from me.' He said, 'Not anymore.'"
This week is the company workshop, the one I managed the past two years. I'm not missing it. I'm sorry for Marie, but she's bearing up under the strain much better than I ever did.
Six weeks and a day until I leave. Not that I'm counting or anything.