The office is so still and so quiet — and has been for the past hour and a half that I’ve been here alone — that I wonder whether I made a mistake, came in on a weekend. (It could happen. My sleep is so lacking right now that I struggle to remember what day it is.)
It’s a delicate stillness for a day fraught with stress. In a few hours, I have a departmental meeting about the state of, well, the state’s budget and how it will affect us. I don’t anticipate layoffs; at the very least, I can see a number of places where expenses can be trimmed. I definitely don’t anticipate I will be laid off. After all, I work extremely hard, and my skillset is difficult to pick up by anyone without my experience.
That and an arbitrary amount of money will, you know, get me some sort of underpriced coffee. Or a stick of gum. You get the idea. Nobody’s ever got job security, ever. Ever again. More reason for me to pad the retirement account by getting a book out the door and into the hands of an agent.
Beyond that are mundane concerns. We need to replace the truck, and with something tall enough that La can put in and take out a carseat easily. I, meanwhile, want some magical unicorn of a vehicle, one that meets her needs while remaining fuel-efficient and inexpensive. Go ahead and laugh. No such beast exists. I’ve got a lead on something that’ll make do.
And money. We’ve put off starting Ev’s college fund, first while I paid off his hospital stay and now while I search for the Unicornmobile. That nags at me. I want to get the money set aside, get the interest rolling, remove it from my plate of worries.
The thoughts flit around me in the quiet air, and I breathe them in and let them out without taking action. I don’t want to break the silence.
