v u l v a l i c i o u s
I'm having anxiety dreams about work every night. I swear I'm not actually anxious. At least not about work.
But the dreams still come: the cooler is full of things, and I am unearthing them, wondering how we can sell them. I've fallen asleep while setting up in a department I haven't worked in before, and now the store is open and nothing is done. Last night, ants were crawling all over a wheel of cheese. It was covered by a cloth, but I knew the ants were on it. I wasn't sure how to get them all off.
Honestly, I love this time of year. It's nice to be busy, busy. To help one person and then another until the day has fallen away at your feet. I love what I do, and right now I really get to do it.
Still, I was driving home tonight with a voice in my ear, and it was offering me sweetness that isn't real. You must be so tired, babe. How was work? I thought maybe I could take you out for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy, just Chinese or burritos or something? So you don't have to think about it.
Instead I came home with a shitty dinner plan that I couldn't even accomplish because I was out of rice. So I walked to the restaurant on my block and got some food. I shouldn't have. I can't afford it right now, not with cooking a big dinner for folks on Thursday.
But it's too late now. I did the thing.
And I ate it all, too. There's not even leftovers.
I've got to go to bed now and dream about cheese going bad in front of me (or whatever else my brain invents) and then wake up to do laundry and work. Two more days. Then a day off with cooking and entertaining. Then two more days before I sort of get a weekend.
It's all happening too fast and not fast enough.