AUTHOR: Beth TITLE: DATE: 9/27/2004 09:05:00 AM ----- BODY:

Sunday Slump

I am The Fool

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(Andy says I have a "Blog Empire". Nice.) So I saw Erica last night at Uno's. Erica's still mostly herself, with that cloud of blazing red curls on her head, narrowed green eyes and a knowing, sarcastic expression. Erica doesn't take any shit, and for that, she and I bonded when we worked together at Borders. She and Vicki--another Borders employee who kicks ass first and asks questions later--were drinking heavily together in the next booth when Kellie and I came in. "So is the Stevester going to be joining us?" Erica asked. She and Stephen are now coworkers. "Nah, he's in New Bedford or someplace tonight with his tuba quartet," I told her. With that, our two little groups peeled apart again. Until Kellie and I had reached the point in the conversation where we compared fatigue (we always seem to get to that point--maybe we just wear each other out). "I am soooo tired," she sighed, rubbing her right eye with one manicured nail. "I don't know why. I've got no excuse." "Happens to me every Sunday. Especially since I have my job. Every Sunday afternoon around four o'clock, it's like someone pulls a plug on me. But I'm used to it now--I kinda just deal with it." "Deal with what?" Erica interjected. Her ears had pricked up at the phrase "Deal With It", as it's probably what will be chiseled on her tombstone. "Oh, my 'Sunday slump'." I shrugged. "Yeah, Steve was telling me about your crazy schedule right now," Erica said. "I asked him, 'Is she going crazy?' I figure you must be." I was pretty taken aback--that's the God's honest truth. I hadn't really thought of my schedule as crazy or myself as working hard. In fact, just before Kellie and I headed out for supper we had been sitting and watching first the Red Sox game and then the Indianapolis-Green Bay game at my parents' house, and the thought had occurred to me, "I can't believe I'm just sitting on my ass right now. I feel like there's something I should be doing." A lot of times, at my job, or wherever, I think, I'm so lazy. I should be working harder. So Erica's comment was, to say the least, weird. I told all this to Erica, and explained that since my second job means a lot to me, it makes it easier to go there at night after a full day of work. "I still don't know how you're not going nuts," Erica said. "Well, was a lot harder in college," was all I could think of to come back with. Last night, though, after photoblogging and sports blogging and managing to fight the urge to do this blog, it was, as usual, difficult to turn my thinker off once I got in bed. That time, right between lying down in bed and having to confront myself and finally drifting off to sleep, is the worst part of my day, every day, for as long as I can remember. Lying down next to Steve, I was immediately hit by a pang of guilt--when he'd come home I'd been busy clacking away at the computer and by the time I realized I hadn't really talked to him he was in bed. I'm a bad girlfriend... And yet I wish I could do more. Not a day goes by where I don't. What about my book blog, poor thing's been sitting there for a month...I'm too fat...and what about fiction writing and poetry and that novel and that book of essays and and and and and Right now, though, with the exception of bedtime, I try to focus on one thing at a time. Today, for example, there are spreadsheets to be done at work, and so I have a nice long relaxing day of numbers to think about and I don't have to solve any problems or figure anything out and everyone will just leave me alone today. That's a good day, in my book. Tonight I have a story in Ayer, shouldn't be too much trouble. But that might as well be tomorrow, because it's so far away at the moment. Erica said something else to me last night before we parted ways...I mentioned something about wanting to make my two jobs one job someday, but joked that "then I wouldn't know what to do with myself." "Maybe then you would share yourself with the world," Erica answered, meaning writing, of course. Sometimes it feels like the whole planet's on my case, myself included. But right now I just seem to want to live my life and write down what happened in my day. Maybe someday I'll find a home for that somewhere.