My doctor tells me to get up when this happens and do other things besides stay in bed, so I'll associate my bed with sleep and not frustration. I forget to darken the window because that's the cat television.
I count sheep with foreign policy texts on the Cold War, a subject which I believe necessary for Americans to understand but reliably knocks me out inside a half hour, better than pills and without the residual groggy feeling. This doesn't always work and so I'm converting my insomnia to income.
The second job is part-time with a library.
I rode the bus to the initial interview and the landscape deteriorated, became an endless sequence of condemned houses, bail bonds, car lots, homeless missions and kitchens, eroded community centers.
I pull books for reserve. They range from auto mechanic guides, to self-help, paperback romances, books on genealogy, history, pop culture, biographies, everything.
A woman needs help scanning items. She is in her mid fifties. Her library card is two weeks old.
A man asks me to remove the security cases from the DVDs he found today. His patron history suggests he or someone he knows is a recovering addict. He is possibly a writer or doing research, but there is a pensive, long absent light in his face.
I help an elderly woman file for government assistance. Her hands shake too much to complete the form legibly.
Another woman asks, "How do I get to WWW?" She says double-you, and I realize she is trying to apply for a job online. I sit with her and make sure she understands how to finish the application. The web address is written on the back of a piece of scratch paper. I explain she should make a list of places in the area she would like to work and when she can find me. I'll help her find a job.
A little girl wants to know about the clothes and styles that people used to wear. She left the library with a stack of books.
I love my new job. If I quit the hotel, I'll qualify for food stamps--I already qualify for food stamps and haven't applied because of how ridiculous this feels--but I have never been so happy. I am often a zombie for shifts, but the day ends knowing without question the impact my work has on the community.
Oh, and I would have time to write. A starving writer who works in a library and owns a cat. I'll be the happiest stock character in the entire Midwest.