In spite of only working three days this week, I'm tired. I intend to go to bed soon. In fact, I am already more than half-asleep, so if this all makes no sense, I apologize...
I had Monday off for the holiday, and my workplace was closed Tuesday, because of the horrid weather. I was floored -- they haven't closed at all in the 5+ years I have worked there. I woke up at 5 on Tuesday morning, and looked out the window at the wasteland of snow, and couldn't fall asleep again until I called the emergency number to see if we would be open. I had to listen to the message three times before I believed it. So, I had a lovely four-day weekend, which I spent shovelling (and discovering muscles I didn't know I had, whoch still hurt. Yes, I am out of shape. Shut up.) and knitting a scarf for Lee, and watching daytime TV. It was heaven.
And now a Friday Five:
1. What is your most prized material possession?
Hmmm. Probably my photo album, which has a lot of pictures from my infancy up through highy school, and the cameo my grandma gave me. The cameo was part of a larger necklace my grandpa got in Italy during World War 2; they took it apart and had each cameo set in silver -- one for each granddaughter. I wore mine at my wedding. My mom now has it for safekeeping.
2. What item, that you currently own, have you had the longest?
A very small mustard-yellow teddy bear. My parents gave it to me right after I was born. It's on my bed right now.
3. Are you a packrat?
Oh, yeah. I never throw anything away. This is why my house is a mess.
4. Do you prefer a spic-and-span clean house? Or is some clutter necessary to avoid the appearance of a museum?
I can't be bothered to keep the house museum-clean. It's cluttered, and I need a good vacuum, but it's not filthy, and I'm comfortable.
5. Do the rooms in your house have a theme? Or is it a mixture of knick-knacks here and there?
Theme? Is clutter a theme? If not, then no, I have no themes. The bathroom has a rubber duck shower curtain and bathmat, but other than that, it's a mix of clutter.
I'm so tired. It's the start of a new semester at work, and we're shortstaffed, so I'm unbelievably busy all day. I get to work at about 8:15, and I don't stop running around like a loony until 4:30-5 o'clock. I'm falling behind -- for the first time in five years, I'm not able to get all my work done by the end of the day. This bugs me, a lot. I'm hoping it's just temporary, and that a new person will be hired soon, so things will get easier. Today, I was so tired and busy that I had to fight the urge to hide in the bathroom until it was time to go home. (It wouldn't have worked; we have a communal bathroom, and there's no lock on the dorr. Damn.) My boss has been thanking both me and my coworker often, because she knows we're being run ragged, but there's not much she can do to help. (She's also been making snarky remarks about the rude students we have to deal with, and coming from her, it's comedy gold. She's not the snarky type. I think my coworker and I are bad influences on her.) And the really frustrating thing? You'd think that being busy would make the day go by faster. It doesn't. The days just drag on and on. Argh. I come home at night (after dozing off on the T) and collapse on the couch to watch Buffy reruns -- nothing that might make me think, thank you -- and go to bed. I have a three-day weekend coming up, though, so I may survive yet.
In other news... my roommate brought home a tiny little remote-controlled Matchbox car, and spent a half hour tormenting Smoke with it. I wished I'd had a video camera -- she tried to act all aloof and nonchalant, but she'd get all offended when he'd bump it against her feet. She tried to catch it to sniff at it, and the got frustrated and shoved in under the dining room rug. Hee. Of course, when he put it away, she sat and looked forlorn. I may have to hunt for one for her -- at the very least, it'll entertain me.
Saturday, Jeff came to town for a visit, which was a lot more exciting than my usual Saturdays are. We tried to get lunch, but the yummy Thai place wasn't open yet, so we spent a bit of time at the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum -- it's one of my favorite places, and I hadn't been there in years. It always feels like it should have ghosts. Filled with art and culture, we got the aforementioned Thai food, and then wandered around town talking. I bought my mom a Strider bobbing head doll, which is still amusing me, and had coffee, and talked about everything under the sun. I had hot chocolate, which gave me one hell of a sugar high, so I probably talked the poor boy's ear off. It was a good day, and I'm hoping for a repeat of it soon.
I'm worrying about a few things -- friends having rough times, and my cousin is working on adopting a baby from Nepal, so I've been fretting a lot. And now, I am going to take my fretful, tired self off to relax a bit before bed.
I had planned to sleep in a lot this weekend, to try to get over my cold, but yesterday morning, I woke up coughing at nine o'clock, and couldn't go back to sleep. I'd start to drift off, and then my throat would start tickling, and I'd cough myself awake. After about an hour of that, I decided I'd watch a bit of TV until I felt like getting up and facing the day. I rolled over, groped for my glasses, and turned on the TV, and there it was: a shot of a white plume of smoke trailing a glowing ball of flame. The caption on the TV said only "Possible terror attack?" I shot out of bed, scared speechless for a minute, until I heard them say the name Columbia. It took a few more seconds to sort out what they were talking about -- I'd thought someone had launched a missile somewhere, for just a second or two. Once I realized, I went downstairs and called my mom to ask if she was watching the news, and if she knew what had happened. She said she had seen it, because she had been watching TV since 9 or so, hoping to see the shuttle land. She was crying a little, and I noticed I was too. We talked a little, and she said she'd called my grandparents to tell them to turn on the TV -- they live near Orlando, and my grandmother has avidly followed the space program for years. We hung up, and I sat on the couch and watched the news for most of the day, stopping to make some coffee, and to run to the grocery store. The radio was on in the store, and the usually chatty guys at the meat counter were silent and red-eyed. People were talkiing about it quietly, sadly. I went home, put some stew on to cook, and sat back down to watch, numb.
In 1998, my mom and I got to see the Endeavor launch from my grandparents' porch. It was set to go up at 3 a.m., the morning after we arrived. I remember my grandmother excitedly asking if we wanted to get up to see it; I agreed just because I knew it would make her happy. I thought they lived far enough away that we wouldn't see much, maybe a bright dot along the horizon. But I Mom and I said yes, we'd get up, so she came and tapped on our doors in the wee hours, and we went out to the back porch to watch the sky. Grandpa had the TV on, so we could hear the countdown. When it reached one, we waited... for a second or two, there was nothing, then we felt a slight rumble, and the sky lit up bright orange. There was a tail of flame, maybe three inches long, and so bright it looked like the sun was rising. We could make out the shuttle and booster rockets, even from such a distance away. We could see the rockets fall away, and the shuttle, with a smaller, brighter tail of flame, moving on up, turning a little, then dwindling away until it disappeared out of the atmosphere. It took a few minutes, and I don't think I breathed once until it vanished. When it was gone, I realized there were tears in my eyes. It was just so cool. I wish I could articulate it better than that. It was, far and away, the coolest thing I have ever seen. And I was awestricken, and painfully envious of the people in that shuttle. I'd give my right arm to be able to do that. (I wanted to be an astronaut until high school, when I found out how bad I am at math and physics. Thus, I am a librarian who daydreams about being an astronaut, still.)
Watching the news yesterday made me feel like I'd been kicked in the stomach. I was talking later in the day with my mom, and we were trying to figure out why we were so sad -- yes, the loss of those seven lives is awful... but people die every day. Part of it, I'm sure, is that the shuttles go up and come down so often, without incident, that we take it for granted. I never expected to see another one fail like that, after the Challenger. But a big part of it, I think, is that it shatters that daydream. Most people, I'm sure, look at the launches and think "I wish I could do that." Most people imagine what it must be like to leave this place, to look down and see the Earth from a vantage point very few of us will ever have. Yesterday's news put a shadow over that daydream. I'll still keep having it, though, and I'll still envy the people who can live it.
