I have three more hours left at work. Here's an excerpt from a book I'm reading that I like so far, but that is a lot more depressing than I thought it would be:
One thing or another in our lives hadn't worked out, and for a long period of time we struggled to overcome it. We took showers sitting down and couldn't get out of bed on weekends. Finally we consulted HR about the details of seeing a specialist, and the specialist prescribed medication. Marcia Dwyer was on Prozac. Jim Jackers was on Zoloft and something else. Dozens of others took pills all day long, which we struggled to identify, there were so many of them, in so many different colors and sizes. Janine Gorjanc was on a cocktail of several meds, including lithium. After Jessica's death, Janine and her husband, Frank, divorced. We understood divorce to be a common repercussion of the death of a child. There was no bitterness between them, just a parting of ways. Now they each lived alone with their memories.
I don't know how to describe what I'm feeling right now, which I've been feeling for the past however many months. Something to do with jobs and money. Of course.
Writing "jobs and money" just made me feel more strongly this way.
