The whole world is moving and I’m standing still. –The Weepies
The great workforce beast lurched forward and out into the snow this morning, as evidenced by all the grumbling on Facebook and Twitter. They stood at bus stops and waited in traffic and swiped metro cards on the way to that glorious first pot from some office’s dormant Mr. Coffee.
My college friends bought text books and made arrangements to meet for lunch. My teacher friends worked on lesson plans. My office-bound friends searched their wallets for misplaced keycards and garage passes. Everyone complained about the cold.
It’s hard to get going again, even with these brand new socks, it’s cold, it’s hard, it’s early, they tweeted. But there’s also some comfort in the heavy thud of routine.
I remember the unspoken pleasures in coming back– the pleasantries with friends and office-mates, the stuffy hiss of the startled HVAC system, the sorting of endless e-mail that has stacked up in the interval.
I got up when my host left for work this morning and that Weepies lyric came to mind as I watched from under a blanket on the couch as he donned a heavy coat and hat for the morning commute. (I’ll spare you the song itself, as it’s sort of revoltingly sentimental.)
It’s strange to be left behind as the world waltzes toward Monday afternoon, while I sit in my friend’s silent apartment with a Diet Coke and a sugar cookie, watching the snow fall into the parking lot of the hair salon downstairs.
It’s not boredom or discomfort. I have a phone interview for a job in a few hours and a few resumes to send out today. I’m mostly hopeful and content on this still little island, but I also feel a little left out of the Monday misery blitz.
I’m here too, I want to say. I’m here, don’t worry, I’ll catch up with you soon.