What goes on in your head?
I’m even more tired week 2. I press snooze so many times that I’m sacrificing major hair stylin’ minutes. The front door of my aunt and uncle’s house is difficult to lock. I struggle every time. Finally, it locks. I feel like the “we are the champions” song should be blasting. Time to drive to the BART station. The BART is just as crowded as before. People are talking about the Sharks game. Who watches hockey? Not Texas people. The homeless man outside of the BART station is no longer there. Now I have to find a new man to decline my protein bars. My newly acquired Guess purse bounces on my leg as I walk to and from the office.
I now know how to brew coffee, I’m a pro. There are so many Kashi bars to choose from in the office cabinet. It’s heaven. People are late to work today, I wonder why? It’s Wednesday. One co-worker trickles in and explains that they went to a party and had drinks to follow. People finally come in, quite grouchy, but that’s okay. Soon enough, iChat at work is blowing up with puppy pictures. I got the confirmation that I was “one of them” because I enjoy receiving puppy pictures. Day. Made.
Phone rings, “Good morning…uh I mean Afternoon, Turner Duckworth.” I struggle literally every time. We have so many Fizzy waters in the kitchen, I’m tempted to try one. I decide that’s a bad idea because I don’t like carbonated water (stupid). iChat blows up again with kitten pictures. My pen is running out of ink. My notebook is almost full, good thing we have a large supply of them. Whatever. The Fizzy Water in the kitchen still looks so good, but I remember that I hate carbonated water. But I really want to try it. Get water instead. A design directer walks in and sees that we have karaoke sign ups on the wall – one of which is a “new” spice girls song. He sparks a conversation about how they aren’t the “new” spice girls any more, they’re old and should be singing, “if you wannabe my hospice nurse.” Laughter. Someone comments about how “Sporty” spice should now retire her name to “Veteran Spice”. Laughter again.
Check the calendar. The music currently playing at work is weird. It feels like it should be in a video game. It’s almost time to head out and go home. Time to clean up. It’s definitely 5pm because the boys have started playing ping pong and I’m afraid to walk past the table to get the kitchen. Time to say goodbye and decline the offer to get drinks after work, again (it’s a daily thing. They drink all the time and it’s so expensive!). It’s also a daily thing to tell Amy, the receptionist, to make wise decisions as I walk out the door to go home.
The streets are crowded again. The sun is going down and I can’t pretend to be cool while hiding behind my sunglasses. I’m paranoid that someone is probably following me. I walk faster. Half a mile later, I’m getting on the BART and never did I see that homeless man. I hope he’s okay. I still have that protein bar in my bag. People are grumpy on BART – time to put in my headphones. Some man a few stops down tries to sell me a stolen camera and tablet. Thanks, but no thanks dude.
Get home. Unlock the door. And my uncle asks “was it easier?!” To which I reply, “No, I’m just as tired and I just want to sleep forever.” he chuckles and says, “no, I was talking about the door. We fixed the lock today.” Well. I’m an idiot.