It's never too late.

And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way

Weighing my pockets with stones of longing

Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday.

They always come crawling back

On Tuesday I had to run to the bank to get ones and fives for the store. Phil called as I was leaving to say he was on his way. On my way out, a bunch of bobby pins fell out of my hair, so I ran upstairs to the bathroom to stick them back in. While I was wrestling with my coiffure, all of a sudden I started feeling really panicky and stressed and sad and sick to my stomach all at once and my hands were shaking so badly I couldn't get my hair back up. So I stayed in the bathroom until I settled down, then contemplated going back to the store to tell somebody I needed to go home, but realizing I was the only person who could work, the store was super busy, if I told them I hadn't been feeling well they wouldn't let me work because they'd think it was a contagious illness, but I still had to go to the bank. I sucked it up and hurried. At the bank there was a line, and the teller was extraordinarily slow and also insisted on counting out the money for the deposit even though he didn't have to.

I got a phone call. At the bank. It was Phil, checking to see if I had been kidnapped with the deposit bag. Really, that's what he concluded. Needless to say I made a lot of excuses as soon as I got back to the store and felt very flustered, and had to go with Phil to make some deliveries to the President of the college with my hair messed up and shaky, and feeling emotionally sick to my stomach.

Backtracking--my boss suspects kidnapping at 12:25 a.m.