There has been a lot of commotion here recently. The LongIslander went home after a week-long visit filled with desperate attempts to avoid spending too much money. We did alright though - only going out the first night she came and the night before she left. The other nights, we cooked at home and played cards, and some nights I would stay home and work despite a strong desire to hang with my dawgs. Sometimes I felt bad because I couldn't see her as much as I would have liked - I only did about half of the work I usually do, and I let it hang over my head. However, The LongIslander is understanding, and she is one of my favorite visitors to have in town. Some nights, I just had to stay home and get a good night's sleep. Obviously, the girls and I have learned to be wise about things - at least some things.
Anyway, she is gone now and life will go back to normal tomorrow.
Well, reasonably normal. There is some significant shifting going on in the job department. It's too early to speak concretely of anything, but there are going to be massive changes. These changes take the form of one full-time job, and one rather irregular one. This beats my previous technique of two different jobs, with a third thrown in for luck. So these are good changes. I feel ready for them. More than that, I feel ready to have a job I am proud of, and a salary that can pay my rent and maybe my groceries, too.
Of course, the professional changes have brought out social changes, as my current place of employment is also the regular meeting point for a group of people sort of orbiting around those who work at the store. Without really meaning to, we have developed into a hodge-podge clique of sorts. Despite myself, I feel sad when I think of pulling myself away from it. Additionally, the bookstore is closing in three months and moving to a new location - one that is indeed a much less practical meeting center than the current store. What will happen to all of our impromtu ap�ritifs? What about the three-hour-long Sunday coffees inside the store?
In all, I am happy to move on to greener pastures, and I suppose it is nice to look fondly upon what is soon to be my former place of employment. Whatever hand-wringing I'm doing about my current social circle's impending metamorphisis is really just peripheral to the excitement/hestitation/giddiness I feel about jumping aboard a brand new, better paying boat.
Meanwhile, I have some terrible news. Remember when I mentioned my older client who asked me to take him out to dinner? I saw him a few days before I left for break, and I once again clarified that I didn't think it would be a good idea for the two of us to see one another outside of the store. Although nice, his overzealousness gave me the creeps (after he called seven times in one day, for example) and I thought it better to be clear with him than to leave him in limbo. So before wishing him happy holidays, I once again refused his dinner request (politely) and told him that I still appreciate his visits, but I didn't want to meet up with him outside the store.
On Christmas Eve, he drowned himself in the Seine.
I know I couldn't have avoided this, and that my refusal of his invitations was not what would have kept the tragedy from happening, but it just makes me so sad. He was obviously a lonely man - it was clear even in his humbled way of speaking and his sort of nervous enthusiasm for books - and I suppose I was a bit of a bright spot in what was otherwise a deep depression. Maybe if I had known the depth of it, I would have reacted differently. Certainly, had I known what was going to happen just a few days after our last goodbye, I would have been a bit more gentle with my words.
I don't feel responsible, but I do feel a bit of shame nonetheless.
As you (almost) say yourself, you didn't know what was going to happen. There's no shame in refusing the slightly creepy invitations of a slightly creepy man. It's a sad thing to have happened though.
I'm so sorry. That is really awful.