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She Made It Through
Although it's inconvenient to work on Saturdays, Saturdays are probably my favorite day at work. It's down to a skeleton crew, and the few who remain are laid back and helpful. We tend to keep the overhead lights off and just use our desk lamps. Reading books is not frowned upon. You forward files back and forth to back up each other's research. You tag team things. It feels curatorial in a way that weekdays don't; weekdays are caught up in the news cycle.
Aside from that, I had a Schlotzsky's sandwich. It's a chain, but it's a Texas chain, and the sandwich is not a bad take on a muffuletta. It's never felt like fast food to me, for whatever reason. When I was a kid, I would go with my family and we would all split a couple of sandwiches. I think that's the key - it was never about ordering individual items. We all liked the same thing and we all ate off the same plate. Going there feels like a special holiday. There isn't one anywhere convenient to me, or hasn't been for a long time . . . only now there's one across from where I work. I sort of look forward to the days when I have nothing to pack for lunch, although I know that is partly because they are rare.
I'm rereading Catch 22. I felt its absurdism would be helpful to me right now. I dislike Yossarian much more than I have in the past, although that's fading as I get further into the book; he just comes on too strong in the first few pages. I still relish anything that to do with Milo or with Orr.
I have half a dozen first paragraphs of stories and dozens of scenes for unfinished scripts, which is nice; my brain was sidelined through most of January and February under the burden of Needing to Get Practical Things Done, and it's good to have it back. I'm still on the edge; I can't handle any more stress for a while. But I'm at least on the verge of recuperating from all of it. I'm having people over tomorrow for Pi Day, and my uncle is cooking ribs on Monday. I just ate a very hot pepper, and my endorphins are great.
Aside from that, I had a Schlotzsky's sandwich. It's a chain, but it's a Texas chain, and the sandwich is not a bad take on a muffuletta. It's never felt like fast food to me, for whatever reason. When I was a kid, I would go with my family and we would all split a couple of sandwiches. I think that's the key - it was never about ordering individual items. We all liked the same thing and we all ate off the same plate. Going there feels like a special holiday. There isn't one anywhere convenient to me, or hasn't been for a long time . . . only now there's one across from where I work. I sort of look forward to the days when I have nothing to pack for lunch, although I know that is partly because they are rare.
I'm rereading Catch 22. I felt its absurdism would be helpful to me right now. I dislike Yossarian much more than I have in the past, although that's fading as I get further into the book; he just comes on too strong in the first few pages. I still relish anything that to do with Milo or with Orr.
I have half a dozen first paragraphs of stories and dozens of scenes for unfinished scripts, which is nice; my brain was sidelined through most of January and February under the burden of Needing to Get Practical Things Done, and it's good to have it back. I'm still on the edge; I can't handle any more stress for a while. But I'm at least on the verge of recuperating from all of it. I'm having people over tomorrow for Pi Day, and my uncle is cooking ribs on Monday. I just ate a very hot pepper, and my endorphins are great.