Last week completely drained me emotionally in the way that only a week with family can do. I came home on Friday night to an empty apartment and wanted nothing more but to do something completely brainless. I often have too much purpose in my puttering and just going to bed would have stewed my low attitude even more. I had a full shift of work scheduled for the next day, and I wasn’t even considering backing out. I was that anxious for the distraction.
I decided to pop in some DVDs, but lo, my DVD player decided to stop working. I wasn’t feeling focused enough to read any of the three books currently in my queue. Cleaning required energy when I was already running on empty. It seemed natural that I be pointed to a manual sort of solution; I placed Vivaldi on my suitcase.
I’m no hipster or scenester snob, proclaiming “Everything sounds better on vinyl.” I just needed a bit of that scratchiness that day, to hear a raw attempt that is only considered “raw” in comparison to the high-def quality we are offered now. Just opening the suitcase calmed me, because it reminded me that nice things aren’t always complicated. Of course, underneath the casing of this nice thing of the moment, a turntable built into a suitcase, it was plenty complex. On the surface though, I felt no issue for taking the turntable’s duty for granted. It was made to produce sound and it did. It was Old Reliable. About the only concrete form of support I had that night.
Feeling desperate for money, I took on an extra shift on Sunday morning that I felt hardly enthused about. While I am usually happy to provide extra help when I’m asked, I said no to spending more hours at the store. I came home and tried to distract myself with logical, necessary things, and then I crashed.
I rose for a well-timed homely meal of comfort food for a friend’s birthday. My wiring clearly hadn’t been straightened out by the time we left, though, and for the first time in my life, I left my purse behind. We drove back over the bridge after barely touching ground in Berkeley and retrieved my purse from the birthday boy in San Francisco. And on the way home I felt like I was losing it all over again.
Today I’m thankful for my first morning off since my grandmother’s memorial (Friday). I though I wanted to listen to spoiled rich women dish about their drama, and I’m actually glad that my access to Bravo seems to have completely shut off. Though it’s included in my rent, I’m not going to fight to get it back. I feel like it was sucking away at my intellectual core anyway.
Tomorrow is my one-day weekend. I hope to get myself back.