Working woman
I worked from 8:45 this morning until 8 p.m. tonight. Michael and the kids picked me up. I nursed Stella, read Ethan four books...Kissed my husband.
I just knocked over one of my favorite vintage style water glasses. Now both the water that was in it and the glass are all over the living room floor.
I'm too tired to pick it up. I'm bare foot.
But I'm also thirsty.
I often wonder where my indiffernce comes from. There seems to be a lot of it. Every now and then, I wonder if the indifference is actually apathy. Like with this water glass - I knocked off the coffee table at least 15 minutes ago. And yeah, I'm tired, but I think most people would be startled into action just by the sound of a smashing glass. I've been sitting here with the broken-ness all over the floor, typing away, thinking about it but making no choices.
In one of the trainings at the office last week, we learned - or more accurately we were told -how"being awake" or "being there" at work was a crucial part of customer service. For some people I imagine it is crucial, but in my case I tend to be pretty good at listening and anticipating needs. Does this mean I need a new job? Because I can do it in a waking sleep?
When do I get serviced? Where's my help hotline?
There is also a commercial for McDonald's coffee about "being awake." It's too bad it's so clever and horribly relatable. The mom and her kids are in their mini van, presumably on the way to school and work in the morning. Mom takes a drink of her very tall McDonald's coffee, then turns around in her seat. There are three kids squished in behind her. She is shocked. She's never seen these kids before. She turns back around wide-eyed and says: I'm a soccer mom. The commercial ends with Mom trying to guess her children's extracirricular activities. Girls, ballet?
Didn't McDonald's get sued because their coffee was too hot? Maybe in real life, Mom wouldn't have been able to ask her kids if they expected her to take them to soccer practice because her tongue is blistered by the coffee.
I don't know. I'm so tired. I keep having tiny explosions of reality: This is my life. But it sure feels like a dream.
I just knocked over one of my favorite vintage style water glasses. Now both the water that was in it and the glass are all over the living room floor.
I'm too tired to pick it up. I'm bare foot.
But I'm also thirsty.
I often wonder where my indiffernce comes from. There seems to be a lot of it. Every now and then, I wonder if the indifference is actually apathy. Like with this water glass - I knocked off the coffee table at least 15 minutes ago. And yeah, I'm tired, but I think most people would be startled into action just by the sound of a smashing glass. I've been sitting here with the broken-ness all over the floor, typing away, thinking about it but making no choices.
In one of the trainings at the office last week, we learned - or more accurately we were told -how"being awake" or "being there" at work was a crucial part of customer service. For some people I imagine it is crucial, but in my case I tend to be pretty good at listening and anticipating needs. Does this mean I need a new job? Because I can do it in a waking sleep?
When do I get serviced? Where's my help hotline?
There is also a commercial for McDonald's coffee about "being awake." It's too bad it's so clever and horribly relatable. The mom and her kids are in their mini van, presumably on the way to school and work in the morning. Mom takes a drink of her very tall McDonald's coffee, then turns around in her seat. There are three kids squished in behind her. She is shocked. She's never seen these kids before. She turns back around wide-eyed and says: I'm a soccer mom. The commercial ends with Mom trying to guess her children's extracirricular activities. Girls, ballet?
Didn't McDonald's get sued because their coffee was too hot? Maybe in real life, Mom wouldn't have been able to ask her kids if they expected her to take them to soccer practice because her tongue is blistered by the coffee.
I don't know. I'm so tired. I keep having tiny explosions of reality: This is my life. But it sure feels like a dream.
posted by J.Helen Shaw at 8:46 PM
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