Tuesday, June 30, 2020
I'm trying to have a better attitude toward our very challenging curbside pickup routine at my library. But there is no getting around the fact that it can be brutal work. Relentless, repetitive calls with phones ringing all the time and the same simple things to communicate to people that it is mysteriously difficult for them to properly understand. It's all okay. Really. You can almost believe me. But it's exhausting.
So it might have been a mistake to use my precious dinner hour, designed carefully for rest, relaxation, rejuvenation, and blogging, to instead make use of an opportunity to tie dye my extensive series of white, County issued face masks. I just wasn't feeling very white. So I busied myself during my break like I was 16 and preparing for a Grateful Dead concert, and then I went to work.
When I went back to work I was so tired I only wanted to curl into a ball on the floor. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Making it through the rest of the night seemed less of a problem than making it through the next five minutes. I was beat. I was shot. I was done.
And then it struck me:
I hadn't had my afternoon coffee.
With my dying strength I drank up my prepared cold pressed coffee, and in mere moments I had so much energy I could write this!
Which, admittedly, isn't much.
But it probably beats drooling on an infected library counter, unconscious, while desperate, unanswered calls ring out endlessly through the library.