Yesterday, I came back from lunch and read a panicked email from my supervisor at the Discovery Exchange. The night manager was unable to come in on Wednesday, Thursday, or Monday. I know it's last-minute, but could you possibly...?
It didn't take long for me to hit Reply and say "yes," I would be there. I left Susie a voice-mail message, and typed an email to her, telling her I'd be home late, and to leave me some food in the Crock-Pot, and be sure her homework was finished. And when 5 p.m. came, I did not head north to Baja Clintonville, but walked the 0.8 miles to the bookstore.
Once I stepped through the front door, it felt like I had only left the day before, not two weeks. Cashiers who worked with me before said hi, the coordinator handed me my old apron (a black apron with my round name tag and my Buy Local! pin), and I had been upstairs less than a minute before I was pushing a book cart and shelving buybacks and returns.
|No class at Columbus State uses this textbook, but the title is just too good not to share!|
The temporary bookstore gig has also been helpful to my mood. After the initial euphoria and adrenalin about the move, and the splendor of our new place, wore off, I began to sense the red flags that signal a depressive episode. We often tell children, "Listen to your body" when we toilet-train them, so they don't have accidents in their pants, but too often we don't "listen" to the symptoms that indicate a depressive (or manic) episode is just around the corner.
The lack of energy, the urge to sleep all the time, no motivation (despite having a crap ton of work to do to get this place ready for visitors and to look like we live here--as opposed to crashing here), all of it was starting to worry me. I made it a point to refill my lithium prescription at CVS on Tuesday, since this would not be the time to run out of it.
So, armed as I was with a 30-day supply of lithium carbonate, the email from my supervisor was an added bonus. I felt honored that he turned to me in this semi-crisis. It would be unrealistic for me to write or believe that I am unneeded--as a single parent, and as a full-time civil servant, it would be the epitome of self-pity, and completely unjustified at that. Nevertheless, it improved my mood and my overall mental level of functioning when I received this email. Feeling needed in a crisis is a positive supplement to the extra money I will earn as a result of this.
I'm glad to be inside. The rain is falling outside. No thunder or lightning, but there is a steady rainfall just outside my window, an interesting counterpoint to the crickets. It's 61 degrees outside--I walked from the bus stop to my house with my shirtsleeves up. We had spaghetti ready to go in the Crock-Pot when I arrived home, but I had to run an errand to the little market around the corner to buy some vegetable oil and Parmesan cheese. It was misting at that time, but the sky was cloudy. Now the rain has begun to fall. And it's having a tranquilizing effect on me, which is a good thing. (I was virtuous and drank Diet Rite this evening, which is caffeine-free