“Hello, you’ve reached the winter of our discontent.”
-Troy in Reality Bites
Today marks three weeks since the last time I saw Jason, which is the longest I’ve ever not seen him since the day I met him, over eight years ago now (!). The first week, I was on vacation, and that was fine because I was very busy and having a lot of fun. The second two weeks, though, Jason’s been in Europe, and I’ve been working and life has been all topsy-turvy, and that has not been fun. For me. Thanks to the Internet, I’ve been talking to Jason, and he’s been having a great time, which I’m glad of. Really. I’m just used to him being around all the time for comic relief.
The thing about my colleagues is that I really prefer when they’re all at work in their offices where they belong. I am not quite over Lisa retiring, and that was a couple years ago. She is living it up since she retired, and I’m so happy for her, but I also still feel like it’s weird that she isn’t in her office working every day.
Anyway, since Jason has been gone, I’ve had to do all the storytimes, which isn’t a bad thing in itself. I love doing storytimes. Back in the day, I did all of them and it was no big thing. But I’ve really gotten used to having a partner, or, as I put it to Diane last week, “a crutch.” For instance, last Wednesday and Thursday were Bad Days, and under normal circumstances, I could be all like, “Jason, I want to sit in a corner and cry. Would you mind taking the lead on this storytime thing?” And he’d be like, “Sure!” I powered through the storytimes by myself (not entirely, even, because Mrs. L was present–THANK GOD), but every time I hit a lull between stories, I’d think, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
But, you know, I did, and it was fine.
But it would have been easier if Jason were in the United States. At WPL. Where he belongs.
Also yesterday I had to write a paper for this marketing class I’m taking. A PAPER, I tell you. I haven’t written one of those in over fifteen years. At first, I was resentful about having to write something I wasn’t publishing, but then I got into it and am all proud of it. I wonder if it’s going to be graded? That’s what they do in classes, right? I hope I get an A. There is something unseemly about being 37 and hoping you get an A on a paper, but there you go.
Also my stupid arm hurts from typing. Stupid tendon problem.
One thing I can’t complain about is Halloween, because we always have fun and there is candy. Thank God for chocolate.