The Little Things

My now over 24 hours in Skagway have been a steep learning curve. I have learned to do all my jobs in one go, and I will be wearing many hats. I've run from place to place trying to assemble my life and make up for time or things I forgot to bring. The house is still being fitted to suit the 22 people who will live here at one point or another in close quarters. The walls are still skeletal structures. The kitchen sink is gone and the stove was off till today, so I've been living off fruit and other perishables. I got down on my knees last night and scrubbed the newly refurbished shower and toilet in order to prove my good faith and I may end up painting a wall to do the same. I also haven't slept much due to the necessities of training to be ready imminently: today was the first day of the cruise ship season and already I put skills I learned yesterday to use for paying tourists, praying I didn't fuck up their 10 hours ashore here. I managed, just.

One can get very worried and discouraged by everything and the fear that one will not get it right or that you might fail people you have just met but will know very intimately simply by the fact that a population of 2000 in a valley bowl in the middle of the sawtooth mountains hasn't far to run and hide. One fears that sense of failure that befell so many here over a century ago: swindled, desperate, poor, loveless.

Yet, the Morning Wood Hotel exists here. It's the little things that remind you that the last laugh is inevitably on you. And that's okay.