Are things getting better for me? It’s hard to tell. Lately, I’ve been waking up filled with despair and depression. I did not feel this way before but lately it’s crippling. Bill stands by my side as he sees me in this state. Each step I take to the Path train feels like my feet are made of lead.

Then I get to the office, and soon enough, I start to improve. I shadow the coworkers who are training me, and they tell me I am doing well. The thing is, I am working at this really good company, but working for a staffing company with my counselor in Seattle, WA.

In the NYC office, I focus on what is going on in front of me and around me. This might get the ire of the staffing agency, but so far, I do not know. I am currently working in Midtown by Herald Square, but next week I will be working downtown by Union Square.

Last night I went to bed around 10:30. The night before, I was in bed after 11:00 PM. Tonight it may be closer to 10:00 PM. As I was trying to sleep last night, my phone rang. It riled me somewhat, and I checked the number, which I did not recognize. I roused myself to turn on my ‘Bedtime Settings’ and drifted off to sleep again.

When I got to the office today, I had some time and dialed the number that called me last night. As I had the landline phone to my ear. Seeing the screen on the phone, I noticed the number that called me was the office phone. It was one of those ‘The calls are coming from inside the house’ moments, like in a horror movie.

I mentioned it to my coworkers, who were surprised and told me that no one would be in the office at that time of night except for the cleaners. No one would have known who would have had my phone number since I didn’t tell anyone. I made a joke about writing the phone number on the bathroom wall. Nonetheless, it was odd and made for a nice anecdote.

Presently, I am exhausted. I do not think it will be a problem, but having written that, I might have jinxed it. Bill is off to pick up the laundry. The bedsheets and whatnot. Though we have a washer, we do not have a dryer or a clothesline, so we would have nowhere for the sheets to dry; therefore, a trip to the laundromat.

Bill doesn’t like the stiffness of air-dried clothes, so he drops off his laundry to be cleaned. He is headed out the door to pick up the laundry before they close. I sit in front of the computer, struggling to keep my eyes open. Bill is just so great, fantastic, and supportive. I plan to stay awake long enough for Bill to come home and make the bed.

It’s quite a low bar I have set.