I made an enormous mistake by not taking more time off to recover from working nights. I took just enough time to get some rest, but not enough for replenishing my soul. If I’d thought about it, I could have taken Dana to the beach… or to a park… or on a road trip… you know, just something to get the heck out of Dodge and just not be here.
Right now I am sitting in my precious lobby, which I no longer “own” because there are people coming through the front doors at this hour. These are the most comfortable couches in the entire building, and not being able to take a nap at lunch, curled up in my Lumpy Space Princess blanket, is especially irritating. Don’t these people know I’m recovering from not a small amount of sadism?
Necessary sadism, but still.
Two ladies just came into the lobby and their perfume is so loud that I can smell it from across the room. They’re wearing clothes that ladies wear- one has a fancy top and pants with no waistline. The other has one of those “walking suits” that were all the rage in the ’90s.
I like my new schedule- it allows me to sleep in a bit later. The only drawback is that traffic is much heavier now than it was two hours earlier, my last day shift. Apparently, everyone in the city of Houston has to be at work at 9:00 AM, or at least, it feels like it because normally, my office is thirteen minutes door to door.
I’m so impatient. Add ten minutes to my commute and I’m like, “this is BULLSHIAT!” I should try to be better about it, but when I was growing up I had a friend who absolutely white-knuckled the steering wheel with impatience at having to wait on someone, and it made an impression. Showing up on time matters. In fact, just showing up is most of it.
I sometimes feel that any job, anywhere, is based on a collective agreement that we can stand each other every day. If you’re man enough to put on your big girl panties and deal with my crap every day, I suppose I can do the same thing for you.
The lobby is quiet. I wonder if I could get away with putting my feet up…