It feels odd to be here at this desk, seated, working with this group of people, after the long weekend of working retail. Happily I am off until Saturday, meaning no extra long weekdays. Yesterday, being the only day off in over a week, I did nothing. Large quantities of nothing. We had a simple family barbecue and I watched a lot of TV. Husband worked out in the yard all day and went to bed early, leaving me alone to catch up on my MTV reality shows. We were both good with a little alone time after spending a romantic evening Sunday while Boy chilled out at Casa De Nana's. We both agreed that it was fine that we were not going away for the weekend and we were enjoying the time together, regardless of the location.

The new job is going well. It's still whiping me out to be on my feet that long, but I think it's doing me good. Every hour I work is another hour not spent inhaling snacks in front of the TV. The top store manager (there are about four or five managers at the store all together, I'll have to do an org chart to figure out who reports to whom) told me as we were closing Saturday that I was doing "a really good job". You can imagine how happy I was with just this little praise! It means a lot to me to do a good job and it seems to be coming easily to me. So far my only problem has been trying to control the perspiration pouring from my forehead while I work. We all know I tend to "glisten" more than the average girl (although only from my head, which is extra weird) and I'm not sure if it's nerves (because customer service is kind of like public speaking) or if it's the back and forth motion from the register to the bags (which is a little more like exercise than I'd prefer) or if it's just too stinkin' hot in the store. Regardless of the reason, I'm often seen mopping my brow with the industrial paper toweling they provide at the store. People often think I'm having a stroke, I'm sure.

I've started dreaming about retail, too. The other night I dreamed someone was trying to get me fired (it was a coworker, but in the dream she was played by Maura Tierney) by saying I had let someone leaving without paying for their items and my register was really short. Then Justin Timberlake was in my line with his Mom and Dad (isn't his Mom single?) buying sweaters that were ringing up at $80. They were complaining about the price and I was explaining that you can't expect to buy designer cashmere at a lower price. That Justin was acting kind of spoiled if you want to know the truth.

Speaking of spoiled, the customers are kind of interesting at the store. The store is located on the edge of a very affluent area. There's a lot of old money changing hands. Some of them can be very snotty and some can be very nice - just like any demographic, I guess. There are a lot of private school girls dropping buy in belly-baring tops and short summer skirts. They giggle and buy a lot of candy and flip their hair. They talk about their summer travel plans to places I'm sure I'll never see. They whip out Daddy's credit card and pay for their felt and beads to complete whatever project is required to get them out of school for the summer. A lot of the customers are regulars. I had no idea how "regular" until I worked three consecutive days.

One woman in particular come in every day, usually dragging her daughter with her. The daughter is about eight or nine and does not care to visit our fine store. She deems it "Boooooringggggg!" and prefers to stand in my lane and chat and take my picture with her mother's cell, then send it to people. She has beautiful eyes but the whole thing just screams dysfunctional as her mom spends hours shopping while her daughter bonds with strangers. The more I learn about these people, the more I feel sorry for the little girl. Seems her sister is 21 years older than she is, so her playmates are her nieces. Her mother seems to have a real shopping addiction (who really needs to go to the craft store on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday of a holiday weekend?) and the daughter seems overly needing of attention. She keeps wanting to call her Dad to come pick her up and take her home so she can just "have fun" and "play outside". Whenever they're in the store together, she'll spend the entire visit talking to the cashiers (me, especially, because I'll talk back) whether there are other customers in line or not. I think some people think she's my child because they give me these dirty looks. Others seduced by her charm and engage her in conversation, too. In a time when it's unusual to have a child return a smile without their parents putting out an Amber Alert, it's nice to see a child who can carry on a conversation with adults. I just can't seem to help thinking there's a Judith Krantz novel being written in her daily life.

Well, I should get back to my day job. I've got that feeling again that I could put my head down on my desk and start snoring away (if not for the fear that my co-workers would catch me drooling). I'm not sure what it is that makes me feel this way at this particular time but I'm leaning toward sinus/allergy issues since I stopped taking my medication. What do you think?