What a Difference
Last Thursday morning my phone rang at 8:30 a.m. It was a temp agency, asking if I could work for two days. How soon could I get to the FiDi? I said I'd be there by 9:30 a.m., and raced around my house like a maniac.
When I got to the law firm, they directed me to the Word Processing Department. This is the ONLY law firm where I'll work in that dept., because my skills in this area are my greatest weakness as a legal secretary.
The only reason I make an exception at this firm is because they know this is not my forte (I gently made this very clear somehow), and the W.P guys only give me straight revisions to work on. Table of contents? Not for me! Table of authorities? Not for me! 48 pages of scribbles and arrows and hand written notes written sideways and on the back of the page? I'll take it!
So it works out well. I can't begin to explain how much my mood shifted at the end of the week due to working. Granted, I was a little tired Thursday, what with not getting in my daily 4-6 hour nap, but I sucked it up and dealt.
It was so nice to have somewhere to go, something to do. It was so nice to have people to talk with in person about the election. I think that may be a small (yet significant) reason for my depression - talking in person can go a long way.
You know what I did for the first time in my entire life? Said something to a man about his husband. The very first time I worked in this WP department, I was covering for a gay man who was out because he was getting married. He's an older guy, lived in SF since the early 80's.
On Friday he was telling me what it was like here - how utterly scary it was, saying everyone was just dropping like flies. The drugstores couldn't keep enough canes in stock. He fled, and moved out to the Bay Area suburbs for four years, too scared to stay in the city. It was interesting and sad to hear about a time I'd read about in Newsweek.
I hope somebody at that firm goes on vacation soon. Or retires. Retiring would be good. For me.