in which quite a lot of things happen at once
I've been having a terrifically odd day.
Most of the morning and early afternoon was spent being very, very cross and sick and blowing my nose every ten minutes or less -- fortunately we have very soft Kleenex so my nose is, for once, not red and raw -- and eating toast for my very sore throat and stalking up and down the stairs and drinking a lot of water and not having any orange juice or lemon drops alack alack and my body deciding that now was exactly the time to issue forth all sorts of obnoxious niggling complaints besides the coldiness, such as extreme itching in the ears, and limbs insisting on bumping themselves against things when I stopped paying attention.
But I had to go pick up my prescription at Wal-Mart, because as of yesterday I was out of Zoloft. The Angelmobile was very pleased. He's been sulking in the garage, listening to very organy Bach, because he thinks I have abandoned him, and he is very annoyed, not to mention hurt, that when I go to the library I no longer need him. I took him to Martin's once, but he said it was only because I needed his basket and if I hadn't been getting a gallon of milk I wouldn't have needed him at all, so it didn't count. Hell hath no emo like a bicycle scorned. Seriously. Anyway, I was still fairly broody and not-cheery myself, so we made good company.
At Wal-Mart, standing in line at the pharmacy, I looked down and discovered that my left leg was covered in blood. This was very disconcerting, and also embarrassing. As far as I can tell I must have scraped it during the bicycling, because it was a ridiculously shallow cut to be emitting so much blood (it didn't even hurt, which is why it took me so long to notice -- and when I did notice it only stung a bit) -- but it was everywhere. At first I tried to mop it up discreetly with my hand, but that got me nothing but a palm covered in blood, and it kept on trickling, and I didn't especially want to hold out a bloody hand to the pharmacist for my Zoloft! (Seeing as it's an antidepressant I'm taking, the blood might look even awkwarder than it would otherwise...) When my turn finally arrived I was brave (and desperate) enough to ask for some paper towel, and when I explained about my leg bleeding the grandmotherly woman behind the counter gave me a whole stack of band-aids and fussed over me quite sweetly (she heard my coughing and said I ought to be resting in bed -- but in a very kind way).
Then, mostly because I hadn't anything better to do, and going to Wal-Mart for medicine is not exciting, especially when you are miserable and want something nice to happen even if you have to happen it yourself, I went to the mall to do what I usually do at the mall: nag people to let me work at their stores. So I went into Waldenbooks, because I haven't nagged them in a while, and last time they did say they might be hiring sometime in the closer area of the future. The manager was right there, actually -- I recognised him from the many many times I have been naggy there in the past year and a half -- but he was busy doing something and so turned me over to an associatey fellow. I said, "Um, are you hiring?" (except it was a lot politer in context and tone, really!): the associatey fellow said, "Well, I'm not, but he might be," so I got turned over to the manager after all. He said, "Welllll, we're accepting applications," and "hey, haven't you applied here before?"
"Well, yes," says I, "and I've been trying to get a job all summer, but nobody's hiring at the right times and I keep missing the little windows of time when they are hiring, and I really really like it here and would love to work here, because, books" and it may have been more or less coherent than this, I am not sure. At any rate it seemed to be vaguely favourable, because he asked, "Would you like to set up an interview? When do you think would be good? Could you possibly even come in tomorrow?" and I said "OKAY YES ABSOLUTELY" except with more poise and dignity (I think). He gave me another application to fill out for him to look over during the interview, I imagine -- and so it came to be that I have a completely unforseen interview at Waldenbooks tomorrow (Friday) at noon. I plan to wear orange and brown and blue and look sophisticated, but bookish. As usual, I concentrate on trivial items such as clothing when I am nervous. I am also trying very hard not to imagine the interview or imagine working at Waldenbooks because things tend not to happen after I imagine them.
(I AM REALLY KIND OF EXCITED. MAYBE A LOT.)
When I came home I was in a much better mood -- and better shape physically, too; I think the fresh air did my lungs and sinuses some good, because the sore throat is descending deeper into my chest, and my nose is running slightly less (DayQuil, by the way, proved to be obnoxiously useless, and we are out of Sudafed, and I couldn't buy any at Wal-Mart because you need to show ID for Sudafed because apparently you can make meth out of it?). Anyway I was so energised that I dove into my bedroom again and managed to dispose of an entire very large box which has been obscuring the window and the top of my trunk ever since we've been here -- half the things in it I discovered I can get rid of. My bedroom is starting to look properly bedroomy at last and have less mess in it, especially mess consisting of things that haven't found places yet. I even have a lamp, although it is a gigantic and somewhat ugly living room lamp, but it is temporary until I get a better one, and it is infinitely better than the camping lantern I have been using, which casts a very small amount of very cold light. Honestly, I lit up the candelabrum the other night and it gave better (not to mention pleasanter) light than the silly lantern, which is not deserving of a very pretty name such as lantern.
When my bedroom is less cluttered I feel less cluttered, so that is good. I need to organise the Book Nook a bit better, and find something cushiony for it, and a lamp or two, and also re-attaching my window blinds would be nice. They fell on the cat when I was trying to pull them up, leaving me to wonder why these things always seem to happen to me.
Tonight: lit candelabrum and some pre-bedtime music-listening. Tomorrow: job interview, and worship practice/general out-hangage with Jonathan. Soon: talking without coughing?
Most of the morning and early afternoon was spent being very, very cross and sick and blowing my nose every ten minutes or less -- fortunately we have very soft Kleenex so my nose is, for once, not red and raw -- and eating toast for my very sore throat and stalking up and down the stairs and drinking a lot of water and not having any orange juice or lemon drops alack alack and my body deciding that now was exactly the time to issue forth all sorts of obnoxious niggling complaints besides the coldiness, such as extreme itching in the ears, and limbs insisting on bumping themselves against things when I stopped paying attention.
But I had to go pick up my prescription at Wal-Mart, because as of yesterday I was out of Zoloft. The Angelmobile was very pleased. He's been sulking in the garage, listening to very organy Bach, because he thinks I have abandoned him, and he is very annoyed, not to mention hurt, that when I go to the library I no longer need him. I took him to Martin's once, but he said it was only because I needed his basket and if I hadn't been getting a gallon of milk I wouldn't have needed him at all, so it didn't count. Hell hath no emo like a bicycle scorned. Seriously. Anyway, I was still fairly broody and not-cheery myself, so we made good company.
At Wal-Mart, standing in line at the pharmacy, I looked down and discovered that my left leg was covered in blood. This was very disconcerting, and also embarrassing. As far as I can tell I must have scraped it during the bicycling, because it was a ridiculously shallow cut to be emitting so much blood (it didn't even hurt, which is why it took me so long to notice -- and when I did notice it only stung a bit) -- but it was everywhere. At first I tried to mop it up discreetly with my hand, but that got me nothing but a palm covered in blood, and it kept on trickling, and I didn't especially want to hold out a bloody hand to the pharmacist for my Zoloft! (Seeing as it's an antidepressant I'm taking, the blood might look even awkwarder than it would otherwise...) When my turn finally arrived I was brave (and desperate) enough to ask for some paper towel, and when I explained about my leg bleeding the grandmotherly woman behind the counter gave me a whole stack of band-aids and fussed over me quite sweetly (she heard my coughing and said I ought to be resting in bed -- but in a very kind way).
Then, mostly because I hadn't anything better to do, and going to Wal-Mart for medicine is not exciting, especially when you are miserable and want something nice to happen even if you have to happen it yourself, I went to the mall to do what I usually do at the mall: nag people to let me work at their stores. So I went into Waldenbooks, because I haven't nagged them in a while, and last time they did say they might be hiring sometime in the closer area of the future. The manager was right there, actually -- I recognised him from the many many times I have been naggy there in the past year and a half -- but he was busy doing something and so turned me over to an associatey fellow. I said, "Um, are you hiring?" (except it was a lot politer in context and tone, really!): the associatey fellow said, "Well, I'm not, but he might be," so I got turned over to the manager after all. He said, "Welllll, we're accepting applications," and "hey, haven't you applied here before?"
"Well, yes," says I, "and I've been trying to get a job all summer, but nobody's hiring at the right times and I keep missing the little windows of time when they are hiring, and I really really like it here and would love to work here, because, books" and it may have been more or less coherent than this, I am not sure. At any rate it seemed to be vaguely favourable, because he asked, "Would you like to set up an interview? When do you think would be good? Could you possibly even come in tomorrow?" and I said "OKAY YES ABSOLUTELY" except with more poise and dignity (I think). He gave me another application to fill out for him to look over during the interview, I imagine -- and so it came to be that I have a completely unforseen interview at Waldenbooks tomorrow (Friday) at noon. I plan to wear orange and brown and blue and look sophisticated, but bookish. As usual, I concentrate on trivial items such as clothing when I am nervous. I am also trying very hard not to imagine the interview or imagine working at Waldenbooks because things tend not to happen after I imagine them.
(I AM REALLY KIND OF EXCITED. MAYBE A LOT.)
When I came home I was in a much better mood -- and better shape physically, too; I think the fresh air did my lungs and sinuses some good, because the sore throat is descending deeper into my chest, and my nose is running slightly less (DayQuil, by the way, proved to be obnoxiously useless, and we are out of Sudafed, and I couldn't buy any at Wal-Mart because you need to show ID for Sudafed because apparently you can make meth out of it?). Anyway I was so energised that I dove into my bedroom again and managed to dispose of an entire very large box which has been obscuring the window and the top of my trunk ever since we've been here -- half the things in it I discovered I can get rid of. My bedroom is starting to look properly bedroomy at last and have less mess in it, especially mess consisting of things that haven't found places yet. I even have a lamp, although it is a gigantic and somewhat ugly living room lamp, but it is temporary until I get a better one, and it is infinitely better than the camping lantern I have been using, which casts a very small amount of very cold light. Honestly, I lit up the candelabrum the other night and it gave better (not to mention pleasanter) light than the silly lantern, which is not deserving of a very pretty name such as lantern.
When my bedroom is less cluttered I feel less cluttered, so that is good. I need to organise the Book Nook a bit better, and find something cushiony for it, and a lamp or two, and also re-attaching my window blinds would be nice. They fell on the cat when I was trying to pull them up, leaving me to wonder why these things always seem to happen to me.
Tonight: lit candelabrum and some pre-bedtime music-listening. Tomorrow: job interview, and worship practice/general out-hangage with Jonathan. Soon: talking without coughing?