LJ Idol Friends And Rivals: Void
There you are in the middle of a ten-day work week. You keep getting called in because coworkers keep banging out and you chase money so saying no isn't an option. Your schedule is all over the place thanks to their absences: Is it really 6:30PM, Mr. Time Clock? You mentally calculate making/eating dinner (1 hour minimum), feeding and walking dogs (1 hour minimum), doing a rush load of laundry (another hour)...and you're back at 4AM. Five hours' sleep IF everything goes smooth. Thank the gods for valerian root.
You like the 4AM because you're out at 1PM and therefore can actually Do Things others take for granted like...grocery shopping. Or doing a leisurey laundry load. Or running errands. Or taking the dogs on an hour-long hike while the sun is out. You secretly pray your coworker who now has the 4AM bangs out. You curse your arthritis which now renders you useless to continue that shift day in day out (“Yes, coworker, thank my arthritis that you were hired.”) Instead it's the coworker with the 8-4 who bangs out, or the coworker with the 10-6. Sometimes it's the coworker with the closing shift and your own shift the next day starts at 6AM.
Today you finally, FINALLY have a day off. Finally as in turning off your cell, burying yourself under the blankets. Except you're still awake at 3AM because your dog's wondering why you aren't up yet.
The mental to-do list:
Groceries
Get hair trimmed
Go to bank
Pedicure
Drop off library books
Vacuum dog fur from everything
You stumble downstairs at 3:15AM, let the dogs out to potty, and make coffee.
You doze off during the overnight newscast, mug in hand.
“How long have you been down here?” Male voice, hand gently on your shoulder. “It's eight-thirty! Why are you holding an empty coffee mug?”
You mumble something and dimly hear the male voice suggesting you need to go back to bed. You mumble back, “Can't. Have too much to do. Need more coffee.”
It's noontime and you're still in your pajamas. Your inner judge chides this slovenly habit BECAUSE YOU HAVE THINGS TO DO WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU so you stumble upstairs and into the shower. You find something to wear in the somewhat dirty laundry. Grab wallet, keys, phone. Drive to supermarket, emerge with three full reusable bags. Drive home. The male voice asks you why you bought THAT “when we don't use that brand.” You mumble it was on sale...you think. And you're going to make something with THIS...you think. And oh, you mean we didn't need that? You blankly look up at him holding whatever-it-is toward you.
You just want to sit down and close your eyes, so you turn on the TV, sit down, and stare at whatever's on. Do you like this show? Maybe you should change the station. Nah, the controllers way over there. Oh, please, dogs, please don't tell me you have to go potty. I just want to sit here. Oh crap, I was going make something for dinner. Maybe we can get delivery. Do I have to something to wear tomorrow? I can go to the bank tomorrow. The trim can wait. I always have a fine with library books. Gah, look at all that fur on the chair...
“What are we having for dinner?” the male voice suddenly emerges from the kitchen.
“What?”
“It's almost six. I thought you said you were going to make something.”
“Let's get a pizza.”
“Again?”
“I'm sorry,” you hear yourself say.
“What have you been doing all afternoon? What time do you have to be in bed? What time do you work tomorrow?”
“Uh...”
You like the 4AM because you're out at 1PM and therefore can actually Do Things others take for granted like...grocery shopping. Or doing a leisurey laundry load. Or running errands. Or taking the dogs on an hour-long hike while the sun is out. You secretly pray your coworker who now has the 4AM bangs out. You curse your arthritis which now renders you useless to continue that shift day in day out (“Yes, coworker, thank my arthritis that you were hired.”) Instead it's the coworker with the 8-4 who bangs out, or the coworker with the 10-6. Sometimes it's the coworker with the closing shift and your own shift the next day starts at 6AM.
Today you finally, FINALLY have a day off. Finally as in turning off your cell, burying yourself under the blankets. Except you're still awake at 3AM because your dog's wondering why you aren't up yet.
The mental to-do list:
Groceries
Get hair trimmed
Go to bank
Pedicure
Drop off library books
Vacuum dog fur from everything
You stumble downstairs at 3:15AM, let the dogs out to potty, and make coffee.
You doze off during the overnight newscast, mug in hand.
“How long have you been down here?” Male voice, hand gently on your shoulder. “It's eight-thirty! Why are you holding an empty coffee mug?”
You mumble something and dimly hear the male voice suggesting you need to go back to bed. You mumble back, “Can't. Have too much to do. Need more coffee.”
It's noontime and you're still in your pajamas. Your inner judge chides this slovenly habit BECAUSE YOU HAVE THINGS TO DO WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU so you stumble upstairs and into the shower. You find something to wear in the somewhat dirty laundry. Grab wallet, keys, phone. Drive to supermarket, emerge with three full reusable bags. Drive home. The male voice asks you why you bought THAT “when we don't use that brand.” You mumble it was on sale...you think. And you're going to make something with THIS...you think. And oh, you mean we didn't need that? You blankly look up at him holding whatever-it-is toward you.
You just want to sit down and close your eyes, so you turn on the TV, sit down, and stare at whatever's on. Do you like this show? Maybe you should change the station. Nah, the controllers way over there. Oh, please, dogs, please don't tell me you have to go potty. I just want to sit here. Oh crap, I was going make something for dinner. Maybe we can get delivery. Do I have to something to wear tomorrow? I can go to the bank tomorrow. The trim can wait. I always have a fine with library books. Gah, look at all that fur on the chair...
“What are we having for dinner?” the male voice suddenly emerges from the kitchen.
“What?”
“It's almost six. I thought you said you were going to make something.”
“Let's get a pizza.”
“Again?”
“I'm sorry,” you hear yourself say.
“What have you been doing all afternoon? What time do you have to be in bed? What time do you work tomorrow?”
“Uh...”