Evening,

I stood in the doorway of the chapel hugging my sister who normally shuns physical displays of affection. She had her arms wrapped around my body, inside my coat, and I was letting her hug me while my mother stood looking at us like we were strange.

“I’m sick,” I mumbled in to her shoulder which smelled like a combination of vanilla and fabric softener.

“I have to have knee surgery,” she said in to the hood of my coat.

“We’ll take care of each other.”

“You’re my sister,” she said with a laugh. “Of course I’ll take care of you. But you have to take care of me while I’m recovering from my surgery, and watch tv with me, and make me cookies. I’ll take care of you, and drive you to your doctor’s appointments and make sure you take your medicine, and make you dinner…”

I sighed in to her shoulder. I breathed in the comforting scent of vanilla and fabric softener, and wondered when she’d decided that washing her clothes regularly was important. My sister is so smart, she’s way too wise to just be 18 and here she was volunteering to take care of her sick sister while she could be out partying with her friends. It was overwhelming to me that she would do such a thing and I responded the only way I knew how.

“Your shirt smells good.”

Everyone needs a distraction.

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Morning,

I sat heavily on the edge of my bed; staring out at the open door and dreading every minute of the day ahead of me. I heard a faint whine and my attention shifted to the tan dog sitting on the floor, patiently waiting on me to make my next move.

“I think I’m going to try to go to counseling today,” I said.

The dog didn’t say anything, he just looked at me with concern and compassion. The look on his face made me feel like that was the best idea I’ve had since I proclaimed it was time for breakfast and biscuits this morning.

Everyone needs support.

From the Desk of LizDoesRealLife, the Nowhere News

Dear Liz,

You need to be nice to your new co-worker.

I’m serious. I see you there sitting behind your desk and rolling your eyes at this declaration as you file away tickets from all the sales you’ve made today. I see that look of absolute scorn on your face, and I see you thinking that you’d rather spend all day selling a sig page made up of 1×1’s (this would be five hundred one inch ads) than spend time working in the same office with him, that he generally bugs the fire out of you, and you long every day for the return of favorite co-worker.

But seriously. You need to be nice to him.

You need to be nice to him because one day he might have to catch your back like favorite co-worker did, and we’re all about friendly business relationships here at the Nowhere News. You loved favorite co-worker, and favorite co-worker helped you out on so many things and helped mold you in to the salesperson you’re fast becoming, and you need to do the same thing for new co-worker.

You need to stop rolling your eyes when he asks you dumb questions, you need to stop yawning when he talks about his many years of experience in the publishing business, and you need to start showing the side you show to the NewsGirls, and Wonder-M. You need answer his questions and be a nice person so that he’ll feel welcome to this company. You need to stop getting pissed when he shows up late or leaves early, and you need to let your boss take care of boss things, and you can take care of Liz things.

Besides, how would it have made you feel if favorite co-worker had a smart comment for everything you said, she wouldn’t have been favorite co-worker for very long, would she have?

It will not kill you to be nice. I promise. All of this will make you a better person, a better sales person, and a better member of the Nowhere, KY community.

(I’m stretching it for the last part.)

You be good, don’t screw up your meetings with advertisers, and keep doing your best. I believe in you.

Sincerely,
Liz

As you can see, I’m having trouble dealing with the shakeups here at the Nowhere News. Favorite co-worker retired, which has put me in her position, dealing with her people, and inheriting her problems. I’m going to make it through, I have no doubt, but on this cold rainy day in early October, from behind my desk at the Nowhere News, after business hours…I have to write a letter to and encourage myself to keep on chugging, despite the obstacles.

Until next time,

Liz

Ladies and Gentlemen, a rant.

I hate hate hate hate hate (do you get it by now…) my headache medicine.

Zomig 5mg should be sold on the street because every time I take it I get high as a kite and can’t function in the real world. I can barely walk a straight line and can’t touch my finger to my nose or do anything coherently.

I can’t sell advertising, I can’t type emails. I’m barely writing this blog right now because I lack the ability to function. coherently. in the real world. with the rest of the adults.

While on my headache meds I’ve caught myself: telling my boss, the venerable Dan, that I have the swine flu, cussing my co-worker (which I do while not on my headache medicine–oh, favoriteco-worker I miss you so), telling my mother about my personal life (my personal personal life),

my dad is on the same medicine, and we are intolerable together when we both have headaches.

So, last night I fell asleep watching the Steelers game and woke up at 4:00 AM with a splitting migraine. (Cold Stone Creamery and Five Guys Burgers and Fries should market themselves as migraine triggers, especially when the two are mixed) I rushed to my purse (as much as anyone rushes at 4:00 AM and grabbed my headache medicine, washed it down with a glass of water, and grabbed my headache bag (a bag of ice). I fell asleep and woke up at 8:00 AM.

But wait Liz! You go to work at 8.
That, ladies and gentlemen is the type of day I’m having.

I feel like I’m hungover, and I know a thing or two about being hungover.

Blah.
I need to sell, I need to work, I need to function in the real world.

Here’s to drinking lots of water and flushing this doggone medicine out of me.