Meditative Prose
Sunday, 13 April 2008
Photo by 917press
The past three days have been an uncomfortable dream. Friday I woke up and realized that my feeling of unwellness had turned into full-out sickness. Then I worked an exhausting day basically managing the bookstore while all my regular co-workers were off. I had some help from Bea, a funny, hip older woman who temps as a cashier for us during rush, but the workday was still incredibly hectic. That night I just wanted to start the weekend, but couldn’t with the knowledge that I’d have to get up again and work.
Saturday was an accepted students event at the college, which means that I had to get up at 6:30, still feeling sick, shower, and then walk up the hill with Sarah to open the store at 8. I’m not sure how Sarah got roped into being an occasional Saturday cashier for us, but I know she regrets it. Anyway, I was running around like mad getting ready to open the store, and by the time I unlocked the door there were ten people waiting to come in. Never a good sign. That day again I was basically managing the store, while Sarah and our other cashier, Michelle, rang up the steady stream of parents and incoming freshmen, who were basically begging us to take their money.
As the day wore on, I felt worse and worse, and time seemed to be slowing down. After one final crisis, 2:30 finally came around and we locked the doors and turned off the lights. Sarah’s register alone had over $1000 cash in it, not to mention all the credit card transactions. The three-foot tall hanger rack that had been completely empty at the beginning of the day was overflowing. After taking care of all the paperwork, we walked out into the fresh air and left the store behind.
The walk home was like a dream. The sickness that I had been fighting off all day long for the sake of doing my job started to catch up with me. Walking down the hill I realized just how sick I was. It’s difficult to gauge the severity of an illness while you’re in the insanity of a college bookstore on a busy Saturday. Walking home after work on a day that had turned from gray to sunny, I should have felt happy and free, but just felt like I was sleepwalking. I followed Michelle and Sarah a few feet back, listening to their conversation as though I were not human but some dream observer or ghost — not really able to follow the words, walking down the sidewalk and perceiving the world through the filter of a fevered brain.
When I got home I collapsed into bed for a couple hours of fitful sleep. That evening I felt well enough to make dinner and watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail with Sarah. I went to bed sick but fully expecting to wake up feeling at least somewhat better.
Sunday morning I felt weak and sore all over, and the light coming in through the window made my head throb. It was snowing outside. I tried to rest as much as possible, but we were forced to skip brunch at Shalimar of India, which is always a highlight of my weekend. I slept late, slept while Sarah went to a cafe for a while, and finally got up at 3 to get ready to see an apartment and meet the landlord at 4. I shaved, shortened my sideburns by a good inch and a half, showered, and made myself passably presentable. When we started walking I had that same dreamy feeling and hoped I didn’t seem to the landlord like I was on drugs.
The apartment was unbelievable. The phrase “too good to be true” comes to mind. It was on the ground floor, in the back of one of Burlington’s many well-preserved 19th century houses. There was a small patio just outside the apartment’s door with a great view of Lake Champlain, looking out over the big, open backyard. Awesome. This apartment is somehow well within our price-range. The landlord was a kind of gruff old woman who seemed a little wary that we were so young — so I think that will work against us. But we do have a good reference from the current tenant, who works with Sarah, as well as good references from our previous two landlords. I think we’ve got a good chance at it, but I refuse to get my hopes up. We deserve a nice place of our own, though. We’ve been dealing with roommates (and their dogs) for far too long.
By the time we got back home, I had a splitting headache and felt worse than ever. I tried to fall asleep unsuccessfully while Sarah made dinner, then finally succeeded after eating, halfway through an episode of Freaks and Geeks. I slept for an hour or so, and when I woke up — for the first time in three days, really woke up — I only had a slight headache, which Sarah correctly diagnosed as caffeine-withdrawal. Two Excedrin took care of that, and I was back to normal — just in time to reflect on my lost weekend, get some sleep, and go back to work in the morning. Life’s a bitch, eh?
