It has been a weird week filled with small unhappinesses that are adding up and taking their toll. As mentioned previously, I am unreasonably envious of my friends' good fortunes. I got rear-ended a few days ago, and although Sean and I weren't injured in any way, I'm now faced with the annoyance of having to deal with insurance companies and auto mechanics. A co-worker just told me that Michael C. (Dexter) Hall is dating the woman who plays his sister on the show and it's creeping me out. It is a gray, bleak morning that soon will give way to a blazingly, pitilessly hot day. Normally I love my job, but today all my routine tasks seem so. . . routine. Isn't this the same thing I do every other day of my life? Customers seem to leave the same tiresome and predictable messes; my co-workers seem to need the same tiresome and predictable things from me. The only break in the monotony is that my work computer picked up a crippling virus somewhere this past week, and this morning when I got to work our IT guy was running some kind of purge on it. "BEGINNING DUMP OF PHYSICAL MEMORY" read my monitor. It sounded sort of appealing and I envied the frozen hunk of technology on my desk.
I came across the new book The Gentle Art of Domesticity while shelving earlier today, and it appeals to me, too. Today I am sick of routine and horror films and rich desserts and insomnia and bad books and feeling ugly and having to be "on" for other people. I have an overwhelming urge to retreat into my home and garden and craft projects, and to wall myself off from the world for a little while. Thank god I have some vacation time coming up in a couple of weeks.