This week is one on the cusp. My dad’s visit ended yesterday morning when I headed to work and he packed his bags for a long journey back home. I should feel rejuvenated, because I really didn’t exert myself much in the last few days. I went to bed earlier, ate more often, and got some sunshine on my shoulders with someone who knows that’s a John Denver song. Still, I’m tired. I feel okay when I’m at my apartment, but sneeze and cough at my workplace. All the kids are mucus-filled receptacles, constantly opening doors with germy hands and more. The streets are riddled with trash and miasmas of potent stank. Work makes me feel sick, because I’m acutely aware of all the invisible muck, not to mention the whole psychosomatic thing. Home makes me feel sleepy. I blame it on how much I cleaned the place in preparation for my dad’s visit.
So the cusp. Yes, the cusp. Cade started a new job yesterday. It’s a big step for him that I never blogged about, lest he feel I’ve made his personal life too public. He resigned from his previous job after too many months of grievances and searched for another one for a month. It was hard. It’s hard to see someone so capable become consumed by anxiety and free time. I’d come home from work and Cade would be jumping up and down like a puppy that’s been pining for its master. “Let’s go eat! Wanna do something? Talk/listen to me!”
Now he’s working for one of the top 100 brands in the world. I won’t say more than that, but I’m very happy for him. Cade’s getting off work after me again, giving me time to handle all the tasks I like to do as soon as I get home. Like putting on baggy pajama pants and mismatching tee shirts. And eating a whole bag of dried peaches (and promptly dealing with the gastrointestinal consequences). And yep, looking for a new job of my own.
