Be Still, My Beating Heart

9:00 AM
I woke up with a cold this morning. I've got puffy eyes, the sniffles, and I feel like a hedgehog is nesting in my throat. I entertained the idea of skipping work, but I have a lot of paperwork to get through. The last time I had a buildup of paperwork I put it through the shredder and told my boss that my cats got at it, but I don't think I can do that again. He might get a bit suspicious.

9:10 AM
Even tea isn't helping much. I bet having such a cold, damp apartment has made me ill. I would sue, but that would call attention to me. My daughter might find me.

Macy is being blessedly quiet today. She did sort of madly hop into the library in order to avoid the still-lingering chickens in the front yard, but I can overlook a few oddities.

10:30 AM
A young man just wandered in here. He looks vaguely familiar; a recurring library visitor, I expect.
"Have you got any books on two?" He doesn't look like he quite knows where he is. Not that I can complain--I regularly get lost in the grocery store. All those aisles. It could happen to anyone.
Er. Two? Two what? "Well, we've got One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. If you're interested in that kind of thing." I very much doubt he is. He looks a trifle old for such books.
"No, just the number two." Charming. A lunatic. Doesn't this town have any normal people in it? Besides myself, of course.
I feel quite huffy that he's so interested in the number two. "The number three is better, you know. There are plenty of books on the significance of the number three. It's a religious number--you know, Father Son Holy Ghost and whatnot--and it's traditional in fairy tales. You never hear the story about the Two Little Pigs, or Goldilocks and the Two Bears. Three is the perfect number." He's not listening to me. How can I tell? He's left, that's how. He's gone and wandered off into the shelves. Well!
Two indeed. I suppose I should have recommended A Tale of Two Cities.

10:45 AM
Except I hate Charles Dickens. I refuse to recommend him to anyone.

11:03 AM
I'm taking a break. The library's quiet today, so I doubt there will be any emergencies in my absence. I like it back here in the employee lounge; no one is allowed back here but Macy and I and my boss, and he never shows up unless he's angry. I can look out the window to the back of the library from here; usually it's just a view of the empty parking lot (a scene of depression), but it's got the carnival now (a scene that invokes suicidal tendencies). I can see a girl in a big, horrendously yellow raincoat getting onto the ferris wheel; normally I don't single out people to watch like this, but it's hard not to single her out. She's like a single ray of sunlight in a dungeon; the yellow against the stark grey sky is brighter than anything else outside. The gaudy lights and colors of the carnival have been dulled with splattered mud and grey light and fog; even the royal purple tent of the so-called medium looks less royal and more like an old bruise. Uffda, I'm making myself ill.

11:10 AM
And I'm sick to begin with. I think I'll go back to the library counter now.

5:30 PM
I ran into Mr. Yilmaz in the elevator and he agreed to fix my heater. Wonderful!

5:31 PM
He's coming at six tomorrow.

5:32 PM
Oh god. What will I wear?

5:33 PM
I shall not forget to put in my dentures. I shall not forget to put in my dentures. I shall not forget to put in...

5:50 PM
My dentures.

12:00 AM
I can't sleep. Be still, my beating heart.

12: 04 AM
Only not really still. As in, dead still. Dead being the operative adjective.