Pills, commas, work and angst.

Well, I dragged my little carcass back to work today. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be; the sleeping pill didn’t knock me quite as unconscious has it did the night before, and I was already awake when the alarm went off this morning. Being awake does not equate to being competent, however, and I found myself making some questionable moves on the highway during my morning commute, most of which were due to inattention to my surroundings. I’m going to have to take that pill earier in the evening if I want to be road-worthy the next day by six-thirty.

I tried to set my sights to organization last night. I filed paid bills, organized my medical files, and located two boxes of books missing since the move last summer. I finally found my Random House Styles Manual; I always keep that by my desk and consider it the best and easiest to use authority on using the English language. For a long while I though it had been lost, and despaired when I learned that it was no longer sold new. With my Random House once again in had though, I’m now able to tackle the big issues such as proper semi-colon usage and whether or not a comma goes after the second to last item on a written list (for the record, it does not; the proper way to list something is “one, two, three, four and five”). And yes, I know that other texts list other rules, but this is the rule that was hammered into me as a child; any piece of knowledge learned at the expense of rapped knuckles is not going to be yielded easily.

It remains unclear whether or not we are working this Saturday. First we were, then we weren’t, then we were again, and now we apparently aren’t. My plan is to wait until mid-day Friday and then ask. That’s the deadline for notifying those who need to be called in special if there is Saturday work here. If they don’t get their call by Friday noon, then I get to sleep in Saturday. Sounds good to me.

In spite of myself, I am now seriously beginning to angst about the potential of an upcoming transplant. I don’t see why this should be, but then logic doesn’t always play a role infeelings, does it? I may have been preparing for the day I ge the Call for months now, but I still don’t feel ready. I wonder if anyone ever does feel ready for this sort of thing.