Solitary Confinement

Sometimes this thing at work happens called my-boss-and-coworker-leave-Liz-alone-in-a-small-office-space-to-work-by-herself-for-a-week-or-so.
Bad idea.

I mean, I guess they are just paying me back–they probably feel like it will help me build character to work all alone.  I definitely disagree. But, I probably do deserve it.

When they decide to leave me, bad things happen. Like I go crazy.  A lot crazy.  I have too much time to think and worry and just be weird. I even had conversations with myself.  Talking to yourself is only socially acceptable if you don’t respond.  I responded.

I get so desperate for human contact.  I talked to people at Education week. I was even tempted to help a lost little freshman out, but then I remembered my map skills struggle. (Thinking back, how hard can reading a map of BYU be…I know where everything is. Oops.)

Working alone in the dungeons of the library can drive a person crazy.  I started thinking crazy thoughts. Lots of crazy thoughts at a billion miles a minute.

For example:

1. I decided that when I hold my arm or hand at this one certain angle,  it looks like a raw chicken drumstick.  Gross? Yes.  But fascinating too.

2.  I thought I had bedbugs biting me.  Turns out, I definitely don’t. But, lately I’ve had some nasty bug bites just showing up.  And then I remembered that I had recently slept in 14 beds that weren’t my own and convinced myself that I had brought bedbugs back from England.  Nice, huh?

3.  I came to the conclusion that every family has a nut job.  (Working in Special Collections, I definitely have PLENTY of evidence to back up that claim.)  But that’s not the weird part. The weird part is that I tried to figure out who the nut job in my family was going to be.  Probably me.

4. Pocahontas. Pocahontas. Pocahontas.  Somehow that WHOLE stinking soundtrack ended up on my ipod.  How? I do not know.  But, I decided that anyone can marry Kocoum if they just Listen with their heart.  So, if that’s what you want, go for it.

5.  Sometimes I rethink conversations I had with people and replay them, but change the ending–either for better or worse. Sometimes I say something funnier. Or meaner. Or flirtier.  Too bad I don’t have Hermione’s timeturner to fix all these guys.  (Or, that might be a good thing, actually.)

6. I start talking to the people in the collection. I tell them that they should not write to their mother in that tone. Or that they need to pull their lives together. Or I give them tips to make their correspondence more archival friendly. Like the importance of dating their letters. Or writing their last name. Too bad they can’t hear me in the past.

7.  I clean. Like sanitizingly clean.  My office is disgusting no matter how many times I wipe it with clorox wipes. And there is always that one speck of dust that gets away. SO FRUSTRATING!

Do you see the problem here?  I was pretty much already crazy before they left, so this kind of crazy makes me worry that I’m going to end up in an asylum.  That would be bad.

Please save me.  Solitary confinement is not good for a girl like me.


4 thoughts on “Solitary Confinement

  1. Liz,
    Please write a book. I would like an autographed copy and I will sell all the others in my bookstore. I can’t wait!

  2. Liz. That is exactly how I felt when I was alone for, what, 8 weeks? Yeah. It’s great fun, right? My insanity went out the window from day 1 when I started obsessively listening to Queen music.

    Anyway, sorry to be leaving you again. You’ll manage. 🙂

    And I know exactly what you mean about the counters. They are never clean.

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