My big kids are home, and I have been baking and cooking while they sleep in until I wake them at 2:00 in the afternoon. This morning when Paul got up at 4:00 (he gets up early to avoid the dealbreaker traffic on his commute, but now can’t break the habit on days he doesn’t go to work), Rob was still awake, and didn’t go to bed until 6:00. I am trying not to be concerned, but that really doesn’t seem right. *forehead fret-lines deepen*

This morning Paul made cinnamon buns, which was delightful, and such a perfect smell to wake up to, and such a nice addition to breakfast before I start on another day of cooking. I want to say all that first, so you know I know what a lovely thing this was, because NEXT I want to tell you that he put raisins in them, which is not the weird thing: the weird thing is that he put raisins in them FOR ME.

Reader, it is tempting to exaggerate here and say that I HATE raisins, or to say “That man has never seen me eat a raisin,” or whatever, and neither of those would be exactly true, but they have the FEEL of truth when what I am trying to convey is how close I came to adding this to the “Evidence of early-onset Alzheimer’s?” list. I WILL eat a raisin, and in fact a couple of decades ago I used to add them deliberately to Grape-Nuts, and I did enjoy that combination; I also used to eat Raisin Bran, so the case against my claim of not liking raisins has weak points. Also, recently I had lunch at Panera and they had an oatmeal-raisin cookie concept to which they had added dried berries, and I chose that on purpose and paid money for it and ate it. But the idea that anyone would ADD RAISINS to something, on purpose, FOR ME, is…extremely odd. I would say my USUAL reaction to “things with raisins in them” is shudder/avoid. I appreciate that other people like/love raisins, and I understand it because there are similar things that I like that other people don’t like, but if you LOVE raisins in cinnamon rolls I do hope you understand that that information is relevant only if you are explaining why Paul added raisins for YOU.

When Paul first told me he had added raisins to the cinnamon buns had not yet revealed that he considered that An Act of Love, I reacted with an incredulous “WHY??” After he explained it was for me, I said “But we both hate raisins in things? Especially WARM raisins?” and he said that HE hated raisins in things but that I was always choosing food that had things in it that he hated. I’m not sure that explanation improved anything.

Well. I ate a cinnamon bun with raisins in it, because it is not possible to wake up to Cinnamon Bun Scent and then not consume cinnamon buns, and it was fine—especially because Paul does not normally cook with raisins (because we both dislike raisins, particularly warm raisins) so he doesn’t know you have to soak them first if you want them to retain moisture during baking, so they were small and shriveled rather than squishy and plump. Which, for someone who dislikes raisins, particularly warm raisins, is a good thing.

I just want to say again, because I think this kind of thing is difficult to explain without inviting misunderstanding, that I am not sharing (1) a story of how I don’t appreciate that I am married to someone who makes homemade cinnamon rolls, or (2) a story of how I don’t appreciate that I am married to someone who tries to do something he’ll think I like (especially nice when it’s something HE doesn’t like), but rather: (3) a story of how surreal it is when the partner of OVER HALF MY LIFE does something such as add raisins to something because he knows how much I love raisins, when I do not in fact even LIKE raisins, and he never sees me eat raisins, and he and I have discussed on multiple occasions how much we dislike raisins (particularly warm raisins).

I have been so tired and sad recently, and small tasks feel overwhelming, and medium tasks feel impossible. Paul bought me a HappyLight, and set it up right at my desk, and helpfully switched it on, and I am too listless and Novembery to take any of it personally.

I made a bunch of purchases recently that all coincidentally need to be returned, and I am not confident it’s going to happen. It is especially discouraging because each thing was purchased to accomplish something on my overwhelming to-do list, so getting those things done was so satisfying—but now not only do I have to do the returns (I HATE returning things, even when it is easy and uneventful), I have to uncheck all those boxes. Present for impossible-to-buy-for eldest son? Unchecked. Warm cozy vest to help me not be cold every single second? Unchecked. New winter coat in my current size? Unchecked. Second attempt at a new winter coat in my current size? Unchecked. Some cute things for fundraiser care packages? Unchecked. New shoes for Henry? Unchecked.

Also, we scheduled a fall clean-up for today. They were supposed to be here first thing this morning. They have not arrived. They have not responded to texts or calls.

I would like to talk a little bit about my library job, because I am still feeling happy about that. I’ve been there three months. It is definitely getting more boring/repetitive now, but not in a way I mind yet. When I sign up to cover someone else’s shift, I find as the shift approaches I think “Oh, good, I’m going into work tomorrow!” instead of “Ug, why did I agree to cover that shift??”

Guess what? We’re allowed to take any library discards we want! Isn’t THAT a dangerous option to have! And the discards aren’t just old copies of books no one reads anymore, they’re also the half-dozen extra copies of a new popular book we had while the book still had a huge waiting list. So far I have taken home only one discard (the Jincy Willett book The Writing Class, which I talked about here), because (1) I only just found out it was okay to take discards and (2) I am being VERY CAREFUL NOT TO OVERDO IT. (IT WOULD BE SO EASY TO OVERDO IT.)

One of my favorite tasks is going around collecting all the books/DVDs/etc. people requested online. I especially like it when I go to look for an item, and it isn’t there, and then I look somewhere else and don’t find it, and then I look somewhere else and don’t find it, and then I look somewhere else and I FIND IT. I also enjoy sorting out shelf tangles, where something was misshelved and then other things were misshelved because of the misleading misshelved item. Sometimes these two things are combined: for example, today I went looking for a fiction book by Melissa De La Cruz, and it was not with the two other Melissa De La Cruz books, and while looking for it I discovered a shelf tangle (books by Dean had been filed in the midst of the Da_ section, starting a little mini De_ section where it should not be). And then, after I’d looked through all the D’s and hadn’t found the book I was looking for, my eyes fell upon it sitting at the end of a shelf of C’s! …I realize this story loses something in the retelling, so you will have to trust me that the whole thing was exhilarating and fun and satisfying.

Here is a small happy thing: when I am looking for where a book belongs, and I find there is still a gap on the shelf where the book was taken out. It is so pleasing to put the book right back where its gap is waiting for it.

Something else I like about this job is that I’m almost completely unmonitored. It surprised me at first, especially when I was new and it seemed like maybe they should do a little more monitoring. But now it feels like they let me manage my own time, and since I CAN manage my own time, I like this a lot. I can disappear for an hour and no one asks where I’ve been (and if they DID ask, I know I have an answer they’d like). If I’m shelving, and I find a big shelf tangle and it takes me half an hour to sort it out, I don’t have to worry that they’ll think I’m off slacking. They seem to just ASSUME that I will figure out the best way to spend my time—or, at least, that I will figure out an acceptably good way to spend my time. This is in SHARP CONTRAST to most other entry-level jobs I’ve had.

This is the third post in a row about my Halloween costume, which is weird because I do not usually do any posts at all about my Halloween costumes, because I do not usually wear a Halloween costume, because I do not usually want to. This job has already changed me.

First of all, I would like to say that wearing a costume to work was 100% the right decision for this particular workplace. I’ve been at this job just over two months and mostly I am flitting briskly back and forth across the library, so I am not getting to know my co-workers very quickly; it felt to me that when I wore the costume, everyone warmed to me another degree. They were all wearing costumes, and I had shown up in a costume, and this bonded us a little. I think I got Participant Points. Also, I was cute: one of my sterner co-workers looked at me with shining eyes and said “Awwww, a little BEE!!”

Secondly, a BEE costume in particular was absolutely the right choice for a Public/Community Setting. I got LOTS of pleased glances from patrons: a bee is easy to recognize and widely considered to be cute and appealing. Little children attending a cute library Halloween event knew what I was supposed to be and were not scared of me. Also, because my job involves the aforementioned flitting back and forth across the library, the bee felt appropriate for my activity type. AND it was comfortable enough, although the wings kept shifting and bapping into my head when I had to lean over.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter may have seen that there was A TERRIBLE CATASTROPHE involving my bee antenna: the delivery person put them in our mailbox, which they were not allowed to do because the delivery person was not USPS; the USPS driver then apparently picked up the package, either mistaking it for outgoing mail or else deliberately removing a package that should not have been there. Well, or maybe the package was coincidentally stolen, who knows, doesn’t matter, it was gone. Amazon gave me a refund, but it was too late to get replacements. LUCKILY, I have the headband I keep to prevent me from buying further headbands, and I had pipe-cleaners, so the day was saved, though I was still disappointed: we had no black pipe-cleaners, so I had to use yellow, and they were a very different yellow from my shirt and shoes. BUT IT WAS FINE.

Also: the wings I wore were from a literal toddler costume, and they fit fine—in case you are thinking of putting together a bee costume of your own. They were the kind with two elastic loops to go around your shoulders. If anything, the small size of the wings created an even more whimsical effect.

For next year, if I am still at the library, I plan to acquire black leggings and a yellow-and-black tutu and better antennae.