Working on my ABS

There's a line from Glengarry Glen Ross: "Always be closing." They're salesmen and that's generally good advice if you're a salesman, I guess. I somehow conflate that with the phrase, "Always be selling." and consolidate that to the acronym ABS in my head. There was one co-worker I used to have at Sbux, and she was pretty great so we all got into the habit of being very complimentary towards her (think things like, "I like your hair!" "G is so great - they're so good with customers!" "You don't even have to ask, G already did it!") - as you do. But she liked to talk about how she wished she were fit (she already was), and was one of the very few people who actually made samples during her shift. So I started having the recurring thought that I should say, "G's always working on her abs, to be honest - because she always be sampling!" (if the opportunity arose), and then explaining the tangential connection to Glengarry Glen Ross. And although the opportunity did arise many many times over the course of over a year, I never did. Why? Lack of executive function, probably. And anyway, that's one of the reasons I suspect I have some form of attention deficit.

Sleep has been alternating between ~7 hours per night and ~9 hours per night, but about every other day I wake up between 3 and 4 AM. Fun times!

L's school is cancelled today, because of freezing rain and ice. This is the...third snow day of the year? Which means they'll want to extend the school year. Safety first and all that, but you'd think there'd be a contingency plan in place. Like, a learning from home day. But also: we have an enormous backlog of homework to anyway. So maybe I shut my mouth and we just work on that.

Today is my designated "work from home" day, so school being out has disrupted approximately nothing, which is nice, and I went to Costco yesterday so we're pretty well set on food and that.

Lately L's been going through some things that make me remember how tough it was to be seven. I'm glad she feels comfortable enough to tell me when she's sad and what she's sad about. The self-doubt is real (as in: should we have switched schools?). And I hope I'm right. And I hope she understands someday. And I hope it doesn't all have to blow up as a result of national politics. But it might. 

Anyway. Seven. Hard.