Sunday, October 02, 2005

Sunday's rinse and repeat

I can barely remember when Sunday was a chill-out day for me, a day of rest, a day of sleeping in, and leisurely drinking coffee on the couch while reading the Focus section of the Globe & Mail. I can scarcely even remember when Sunday was a day of mad studying or writing panicked essays. These days Sunday = total chaos. Chaos of the children's bookstore variety.

I got up this morning feeling like I hadn't slept at all. Unfortunately, I don't get to blame it on a crazy night of sex and drinking but instead on an inch and a half of slightly flat Dr. Pepper that I polished off before bed. Fuck, that was dumb. I woke up every few hours with a feeling of complete and total panic about the prospect of sleeping through my alarm. Niiice.

Everyone was still asleep as I dragged myself out of bed to the slightly droning sounds of Ben Harper. I downed some orange juice and a dozen homeopathic cold pills, not because I had a cold, but because I figured I probably would by the end of the day.

Halfway to work my water bottle exploded in my bag. A very overweight little boy on the bus got my attention once I finally took off my headphones and announced: "your bag is leaking water." I replied "yeah, I know," although it was news to me. I just don't like looking like a dumbass before noon. My bag and its contents were soaked, including the store copy of my latest read-for-work book, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Looks like I'll be buying that one whether I want to own it or not.

Even after spending some time trying to dry out my stuff, I was only a minute and a half late for work, and Emma didn't seem to mind. The minute the store was open it was Hurricane Sunday, off to the races, three dozen birthday parties and ten school libraries to stock, and make it snappy!

With a new cashier working (her name is Sonya, and she's sweet and helpful, but still quite clueless) and Cris selling books in her leisurely, 40-minutes-per-customer style, the store was a madhouse. I was ringing customers in, pulling books off the holds shelf, ordering books for schools, fielding all kinds of weird requests ("uhh.....I need this book, with a blue cover, the title is kind of long, and I have to read it by tomorrow."), dealing with impatient and demanding teachers, and hauling 70-pound boxes of books to librarians parked "just outside." Add to this panic the fact that Boss #2 informed me that if I significantly cleaned and reorganized the cash desk she would give me a raise, and you have some idea of my stress level. I didn't eat all day. I worked on caffeine and a finely-honed sense of urgency. Whoever says that retail is an easy job ought to have been in our store today. Around 4:30 I noticed that my hands were shaking and my stomach felt funny. Five hours of non-stop panic has a way of making me feel slightly ill.

Believe it or not, I had another date scheduled tonight. I was supposed to go out with a girl who works for Revenue Canada, of all godforsaken things, designing their computer system. Err...yeah. I was really inclined to cancel, not only because I was exhausted from the craziness of my day, but because I am almost sure she is not my type before we even start anything. She comes on a little too strong and she's a little, well, loopy. She takes "psychic connections" classes and belly-dancing, and subtlety is not her strongest quality. By which I mean that she seems not to possess it at all. And, believe it or not, I am all about the subtlety.

Luckily she called and cancelled on me first. Apparently she's hungover. She seemed incredibly worried that I would take it personally, and I couldn't find a tactful way to tell her that even if it was personal I really couldn't care less. All this "meeting people" bullshit has forced me to look at things a lot more clinically.

Since Kylie, I am not getting my hopes up for anyone.

Fuck this blind date thing. It is driving me mental. I just wish there was a better way to meet girls than in a bar or online. The whole thing makes me slightly nostalgic for the days when men were my only eligible potentials. Men are predictable for me. Women are not. And even worse, I react with so much more intensity to women that I ever did with men. They're so fucking pretty and poised, and I am equal parts intimidated and entranced.

The L-Word is officially the best show on television. Don't ask questions, just watch it. Pay attention to Jenny (played by the hot-as-hades Mia Kirshner), and see if she reminds you of me (skeletal frame, blue eyes, and straight black hair aside).

I'm going to try and update my sidebars. It's about damn time.

I'm supposed to have my first bookselling shift tomorrow. I don't know whether to smile or freak out at the thought of it. Maybe I'll just settle for not getting my hopes up. Knowing Tara she'll probably slyly write up the schedule wrong and chain me to cash all day. Curses.

Wish me luck, or something.


by Nome at 7:49 PM
3 mews

    Welcome. This is the humble chronicle of my life & my thoughts on the world as I see it. If you know me in real life and want to keep my trust, PLEASE ASK BEFORE READING! I'm not accountable to you or to anyone else for what I say in these pages. Comments are much appreciated, but but insults and personal attacks will not be tolerated. Please respect privacy and anonymity - nicknames or pseudonyms only. This is my space to be an adult - kids should go elsewhere. Thanks, and enjoy.

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