Yesterday I finally felt the chill of fall in the air, and it gave me an emotional high. I got quietly hyper. I needed to go to the Sprint store to have my phone’s battery checked, but it was going to require a bit of a drive as not all stores handle warranty services. I skipped my morning walk to run the errand instead, setting off down the road with Bixby by Ginger Running blasting – it’s one of my most recent finds on Spotify and makes me think of EDM + a game soundtrack. I love it.
I picked a route to the store that avoided the interstate, even though it would take longer. I wanted to see more of the region. I didn’t regret that choice, as my drive was a lot prettier than the interstate would have been.
At the Sprint store they assured me my battery was behaving normally, and that there is simply some variation in how quickly one phone loses charge compared to another.
Even though the experience had seemed positive, apparently it was a bad idea to admit to a general ignorance about smart phones and having only recently started using one, because one of the employees must have extrapolated that must mean I didn’t know how to read texts or check the charges on bills – they signed me up for a tracking program without asking or receiving permission, so after I left I was quite irritated to receive an automated text informing me about having been added and that while the first month was free, it would be $10 a month after that unless we canceled it through our account.
Since my husband is the one with the account information I decided I’d just show him the text and let him handle it later.
There was a Goodwill nearby, and a cemetery across the street that I wanted to check out in case it had tree stump gravestones. I went to the Goodwill first, but when I headed to the fitting rooms with a few jackets, I waited and waited for assistance and no one showed up, in spite of having pressed the button twice. I found a mirror and tried on the jackets that way, but decided it was time to go, as I figured the other patrons probably wouldn’t appreciate it if I tried on anything other than jackets outside the fitting rooms – though had I gone that route I probably would have seen an employee, finally!
I went to the little cemetery next, and while it did appear to date back to the late 1800s, there were no tree stump gravestones, so I quickly moved on. I’d seen another Goodwill on my way down, and decided I’d stop on my way back. I had better luck there, netting a dress that should be work appropriate for $7. It can be machine washed & dried, which is a definite plus. I also picked up two mugs for less than $1 each – a big red one with an owl, and a white one that is one of the most extra mugs I’ve ever seen.
When I sent the pictures to A and H, H agreed that it was pretty extra, and that they could have added gold trim around the rim to make it even more so.
(Amusingly, my almost 13 year old son saw the mug when he got home and loved it, especially the handle. He’s definitely a little weirdo – he likes skulls & skeletons, wrote a poem for Vincent Van Gogh as a school project, plays the tuba in band, has a beloved bearded dragon for a pet, and likes mugs with angel handles, apparently. I refrained from telling him I thought the mug was hilariously silly – I want him to be able to like what he likes without shame.)
I’ve never been much of a collector, but I have to admit I’ve always wanted a collection of strange, unique and unusual mugs – for use, not just show – and now I’m finally working on that.
After leaving Goodwill I stopped by Wendy’s for a burger & a small frosty, then headed home, with my last errand being to stop and fill up my tank. In spite of having been in a great mood and enjoying my morning, I was definitely tired. I don’t have a lot of extra energy to play around with these days.
When my husband got home from work, he seemed to be in a bit of a mood – he was asking about the Excel workshop and if it was required in order for my career adviser to recommend me for any job openings he might hear about. I tried to explain that it wasn’t required by my career adviser but that it was expected knowledge in most office situations – and that if I got an interview and the interviewer suspected I didn’t know how to use it, they might test me on it then and there.
He responded with irritation, as if I wasn’t understanding his question, and walked off, then came back a little later to defensively explain that he wasn’t trying to push or anything, he just wanted to know. I was left confused, because I’d answered his question to the best of my ability and hadn’t accused him of anything.
The next couple of hours passed quietly, though, and I headed out for the next portion of the Excel class, finding the traffic a little worse than Monday but still making it with plenty of time to spare.
Everyone gravitated to the same computers they’d used Monday night, which meant I was once again sitting by one of the people struggling the most with the course. I didn’t really mind, though – as soon as I complete my own work I help her if she needs it. Repeating the instructor’s instructions for another person helps cement the process in my mind.
Excel is actually a really cool bit of software and I can see why it’s become ubiquitous. I think I’d actually kind of enjoy a data entry job that required formulating spread sheets.
After wrapping up, I had a brief conversation with the lady I’d been helping, and it came out that I’d spent the last 16 years as a stay-at-home mom. She commended me and said I’d done the right thing, and I managed to choke out a thank you while quietly hating her in that moment. It wasn’t her fault, of course – she doesn’t know my background and must have assumed I chose to be a SAHM because I wanted to be.
When I got home, I remembered to show my husband the text I’d been sent by Sprint, and he went and handled removing the tracking they’d signed me up for, as well as lodging a complaint against the store for having signed me up for something without my permission – I appreciated not having to handle it myself, so it made up a little for his snappy mood earlier in the day.
I went to bed at 10, and by 11 was listening to my husband snoring peacefully in his sleep, while I continue to deal with the long-term impact of the insomnia he claimed couldn’t be fixed or changed. It was after 11:35 before I finally fell asleep, and I woke up at 4:05 and had an instant surge of anxiety and adrenaline that made falling asleep again impossible. I have things that need to be handled and my brain wanted to make sure I remembered them all immediately, in spite of the fact that 4 in the morning is not a good time to handle business.
On paper the things I need to do aren’t that difficult. I need to make two phone calls about Indiana’s workforce ready grant. I need to line up a 2nd person willing to be listed as a reference for my volunteer application. I need to email or call the career center to see if I can pin them down on how to confirm when I’ve been signed up for a class to make sure there aren’t any more goofs that lead to full classes and me on standby. I need to put in an application for Starbucks, still.
These should be relatively easy things to accomplish but for me they’re severely anxiety-inducing. And yes, if I could push myself past them and get them done, they’d stop inducing anxiety. It’s difficult to accomplish the part where I push myself through it. And, of course, there’s the knowledge that there are always more anxiety-inducing things ahead.