A Zombie among The Mall Zombies

That'll be me today. Ugh.

I couldn't fall asleep until after 3:00 a.m. this morning. And kept waking up. People walking around and shouting in the neighborhood like a Friday night. Lilly kept squawking and meowing all night. My body looks red and clawed by a tiger, the inner itching flared hard. Stressing about work, angry about full-time vs. part-time policies, thinking about people, lack of benefits, Ghetto Clinic today, my parents, I could almost hear the tick of the clock two rooms away, wondering if that French woman I bumblingly asked out last Sunday thinks of me, thinking about things I need to change or hold on to, trying to figure out if (as my mom put it) someone is worth "wasting my time," agonizing over whether the New York Jets will make it to the Superbowl this year (okay, not really that one).

And then wide awake at 6:45 a.m. Ugh. It's muggy, and Lilly continues to squawk at me, annoyingly. The new neighbors who moved into "Zilo's" place are talking about something, probably their boy who's laying on the bench underneath their kitchen window, looking sad and lost, or in trouble. I met the dad and daughter, Henry and Lauren, last night on the back porch when I came home. They seemed nice enough, maybe a Haitian or Dominican accent.

I'm closing again on a Cursed Thursday (someone always calls in sick or we get waves of serious Jagoff customers). A Zombie among the Mall Zombies.

Ugh.