07 May 2005

I don't do spiders...
oh, yea. Or death.

It's been a hella week here. Working 2 1/2 jobs and trying to pretend I'm a housewife is bad enough usually. I never did hear on the job last week, and they said no news is end of story. So it's over. Are you the one who didn't send good thoughts for me to get it? Whatever. It all happens as it's supposed to, right?

I almost died this week. I was sitting there in the quiet room peacefully reading eleventh grade essays (or as peaceful as that can be, anyway), working my way through eating everything in my tote bag. I eat when I'm bored, and that means usually at this job. The trouble started when I saw a huge spider walking across the table toward me. I quietly and politely yelped while walking rapidly away from my seat. I tapped my friendly neighbor on the shoulder, pointed at the arachnid and explained, "I don't do spiders." Several people at this point giggled at me. Wonder how they would have reacted? My nice neighbor picked up his water cup, caught my new little umm...friend, and took him outside. Crisis averted, mostly.

The death thing is a little more sedate. One of my co-workers at the same project had a headache from last Saturday on. Monday, someone saw her get sick on herself at her seat. Her supervisor noticed (after the fact) that her handwriting was nearly illegible that day. Wednesday it was announced that she had emergency surgery Monday night for a brain aneurysm. (Whoa, I actually spelled that right on the first try...) Anyway, yesterday morning's announcement was that she didn't it. From headache to dead in less than a week.
I find death very disturbing. After my best friend committed suicide in 1991, I didn't go to any funerals til my Grandpa's a couple years ago. Not because no one died, just because I refused. Ten years and one week after my best friend died, while I was still not going to funerals, my cousin committed suicide. October is generally hard enough for me. That sent me into a total tail-spin. I remember sitting on my kitchen floor, hysterically crying, and calling my old drinking buddy. I didn't know who else to call. I never had another best friend quite the same, and my family had more than enough to deal with at that point. I was all alone, and trapped. I'd always thought I'd be the next family member to die. I remember sobbing that he stole my turn.
I have no personal fear of death, it just disturbs me knowing other people who die. Although when I woke up at 3am this morning with a throbbing headache, it did freak me out a bit...

Here's to next week being a little more...normal.

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