This morning I am foggy, introspective, impenetrable, and more interested in peeling the label off my pump bottle, and messing with my cuticles than doing work. This is one of the problems with working in an office with actual colleagues. At some point they’re going to notice that I’m sprawled with my chin in hand, elbow resting defiantly on my operations manual, rather than typing away efficiently.
My skin is in a state of war with the world right now. Over the last month I’d been lulled into a false sense of security, and now I look like an oily acne-prone teenager again. To say I’m a little pissed off at it all is an understatement. I want to scrub at my face with a brillo pad until it’s smooth and acne-free again.
So in summation: this morning I feel like a zombie. A scabby, flaky, navel-gazing zombie.
I’m typing this up on a work-email, because I feel weird about logging on to LP, and if anyone glances at this they’ll assume I’m working. Unless they see the word zombie, and then I think they’ll begin to suspect.
I spent Friday night hanging out with the family. I wasn’t really in the mood for a large jovial gathering, and I think it showed. I feel like a bit of a fish out of water at my Mum’s party-prone house. They’ll light up the brazier, and open up the bar in the back porch… and I’ll retreat into myself, and more-often-than-not back to my dad’s place for a decent night’s sleep.
On the plus side the middle bro was back from overseas this week. He brought with him a gorgeous girlfriend, who he proudly showed off to the family. It’s always weird seeing my little bros doing real adult things. It’s like watching a cat wear a pirate hat, and I’m all: “Aw. It thinks it’s people!”
It’s like cognitive dissonance. Knowing that they’re your snotty little brothers , who are perpetually four and seven in your head, and prone to screaming and fighting with each other, and at the same time knowing that they’re 18, and 22, with personalities, and careers, and future plans. The two ideas just don’t mesh, and can’t exist in tandem.
It’s like… Watching a boat on the harbour and covering one eye. As you switch back and forth between looking through your left eye, and your right eye, the whole scene jumps in perspective, and yet nothing changes. It’s still a boat, it’s still in the harbour. And yet everything changes. They’re 4 and 18, and 7 and 22. And looking at them both I feel unaccountably proud. Like I’m partially responsible for getting them to this point: like a proxie parent. It must have been all those hours I spent ‘babysitting’. Which for me translated into bellowing at them to stop fighting and threatening to call the parental unit when they didn’t listen.
Ugh enough navel gazing.
You know what I want today? I want to not have to worry about this being my last week at my old job. I want to not have to worry abut all the work I need to fit into 20 hours. I want to not have to worry about the new job, and whether it’s going to be enough to not bore me silly. I want to not have to make difficult dating decisions. I want to not feel like I have to pretend to be happy right now to make everyone stop worrying about me. I want this blasted headache that I’ve had on and off since Friday morning to go the hell away. I want another couple of days to hang out with my brothers, because I haven’t been able to do that for years.
I want someone else to go grocery shopping for me because I honestly can’t be bothered. Even though I’ve had nothing but Weetbix, powdered milk, a jar of pickles, and couscous in my cupboard since Thursday last week.
I want to be able to re-watch that Sunday Theatre thing about Sherlock Holmes set in the 21st century again, but this time without people talking over it, because I thought it was amazing, probably. I’ll bet the dialogue was great.
I want a nap in the sun at lunch time. Unfortunately the best I’ll be able to manage is a short nap on the musty old couch at the other job.
Wo! NZ Music Month!