daydreams

The sun shone in through the front of the coffee shop for a few minutes this morning. I realized how sick of that place I am, and yet I'm drawn to it and the thought of not working there makes me sad. I've been working there so long it's as much a part of me as this house or my friends. Then I realize I can't work there forever. I make minimum wage. I feel belittled sometimes. I daydream during work. Try to think of anywhere but standing behind the counter.

When I pull into the parking lot of South Salem Elementary, I feel normal. I don't try to imagine that I'm somewhere else. I try to imagine myself there, standing in front of a bunch of kids listening as I read them a book, or teach then a new word. I'm not making mocha frappes for people or cleaning the toilets or washing dishes.

But for now, it's just scraping by. Nickels and dimes, literally dropped in a tip jar. Counting up change and buying that much gas with it.

Sleep is a wonderful comfort. Warm blankets and oblivion.