Le Week-End

Once upon a time, when someone asked me what I was doing over the weekend, I would realize that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, going on for me over the weekend.

Okay. Ask me now.

"Becs, what are you doing this weekend?"

Well, last night I went to see Herschel to get the Howdy-Doody orange roots taken care of. "Honestly, your natural hair color now is white, so you need to be careful what you put on your hair," he said and I told him that for my 60th birthday, he would shave my head. He said he would shave his, too. He promised to come to the party and bring his sister, Holly.

Then I went up Oak Tree Road to Little India and had every hair on my face and neck ripped out.

Then I went to the Sweet & Savory Shop and got a little prezzie for my new neighbors. The desi girl told me what was acceptable, what was generous, and I went for generous and let her pick out the goodies.

Then I went to Shalimar (King of Sweets!) and was oddly given the cold shoulder by the people working there. I know it was a busy Friday night, but...oh. I was wearing a little silver cross on a necklace. Shalimar (King of Sweets!) is not shy about letting the populace know it is Muslim owned and Muslim run, that the meats served there are halal. And I thought, really? Could that really be it? I hope not.

Came home, knocked on my neighbors' door and presented them with the sweets. Yeah, I had to do it last night, or they would never have lasted overnight in my fridge. I know the limits of my self-control. The neighbors were glad and invited me in several times.

This morning, I slept until 8:30. Alert the media. 8:30. Me. The "gosh, it's six a.m., it's late!" girl.

Now I'm getting ready to go fetch Phoebe.

I strong-armed Wes and Sandy into meeting me tonight for dinner at a place midway between my house and theirs.

Tomorrow in the very wee hours, an hour in the Adoration Chapel at St. Fatty's. Mass.

At 10 am, a ride of 20+ miles.

At 2 pm, the A Capella Singers.

Yeah. That's my weekend.

And I think it is so cool.

What's French for Feng Shui?

The most common path I take at work leads me past the cubicle of the Feng Shui Lady. I don't think I've seen a cube lovelier than hers. It's very odd, but in the midst of other cubes overflowing with paper, paper, paper, this cubicle is an oasis of calm and order.

The outside walls at TRU provide a continuous row of broad, tall windows. I'm lucky enough to have a cube at the end of the row, as does FS Lady. The metal sills are about five inches wide and on the sills closest to her, she has two plants growing at each window section. In her cubicle, there are three thriving green plants.

She was out yesterday, so I took a second to stand at her cube entryway. She has her PC facing toward the windows, which face west. Her monitor was on what looked like four reams of paper, wrapped in green paper. There was a mirror behind her desk, on the cube wall. I wanted to camp out there. It was so...serene.

My first two months at TRU were a nightmare. There was paper everywhere. Despite the mess I live in at home, I like my workplace to be neat and it bothered me that paper was flung in indiscriminate mounds. As I've developed a process for dealing with the more tedious aspects of my job, the mounds have disappeared. In their place are neat stacks with reminder notes on them. The most important one is labeled and DO NOT TOUCH is writ large over the cover sheet. It's not just for the cleaning people (who actually do dust desks), it's for me.

It's such a relief to have things in order. But I think what has helped most of all is a map from an old Frommer's guide to Paris. I have it just to the left of the monitor, where from moment to moment, I can rest my eyes on the Tuileries or the Obelisque, which is in a circle in front of the American Embassy and the Hotel Crillon. It's funny how just seeing the names on paper brings back welcome little memories of Paris.

My own little cubby doesn't enjoy the same serenity as the Feng Shui Lady's but it's getting better.

The Drug Report

Other than the Dress Side Effect, all goes swimmingly.

I know. Can you believe I actually said "swimmingly"? But I mean it. All kinds of minor miracles have been taking place in the past few days. If it's the placebo effect, please to keep giving me some of the sweet, sweet placebo.

Examples of said miracles:

• In the early hours, I find myself singing. There's almost always a sound track rattling through my mind. Yesterday's choice was "I Could Have Danced All Night". A sure sign of depression for me is a lack of interest in music. Right now, I am starved for music. Pandora Radio can't feed me enough.
• I applied for two jobs yesterday. Including a cover letter and a brief review of my resume.
• From the library, I checked out two books on job hunting and I actually read a chapter in each. In the past, they would have languished on the bookshelf nearest the TV until the library sent me threatening emails.
• I finally manned up and extended my job search to include New York City. Hey! I just found out there are a lot of jobs there! Who knew?
  
• I looked up words in the dictionary. This may not seem significant to you, but it is to me.
• Last evening when I went to the library, I was there for two hours and spent them (with the exception of my brief blogging) engrossed in looking for jobs.
• I left a message with Ari the Therapist, asking for an appointment.
• When I started watching a PBS series on Netflix, I was not compelled to watch all six episodes at once.
• This morning before I left for Mass, I put together my gym bag so I can go to the acqua-cise class at 10.

I know! I can't believe it, either. And this is only a week on the new medication regimen. I suppose it helps a lot to have the right diagnosis, scary as it sounds, and the right doctor to prescribe the right drugs.

A Curious Thing to be Grateful For

I've been avoiding my bills. I've been expecting horrors.

Honestly? I thought I was going to have to use the Visa to pay the PSE&G bill.

But I have gone through the dreadful and dreaded stack of mail and found the pittance in my checking account will likely cover all but maybe $50 of what I paid, and that will be automatically withdrawn from my savings.

Yes, yes, yes, I've learned my lesson, truly I have. And what a hard one to learn, so close to Christmas. Really, no Herschel, not for a long time unless my financial situation changes drastically. Really, a tight clamp on the grocery money.

It was too damn scary to think I would have to put my electric bill on the Visa. If anything signals the slippery slope to me, that does.