"Look, Zaphod," she said, patting his arm, "don't worry about the aliens. They're just a couple of guys, I expect. I'll send the robot down to get them and bring them up here. Hey, Marvin!"
In the corner, the robot's head swung up sharply, but then wobbled about imperceptibly. It pulled itself up to its feet as if it was about five pounds heavier than it actually was, and made what an outside observer would have thought was a heroic effort to cross the room. It stopped in front of Trillian and seemed to stare through her left shoulder.
"I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed," it said. Its voice was low and hopeless.
"Oh God," muttered Zaphod, and slumped into a seat.
"Well," said Trillian in a bright compassionate tone, "here's something to occupy you and keep your mind off things."
"It won't work," droned Marvin, "I have an exceptionally large mind."
"Marvin!: warned Trillian.
"All right," said Marvin, "what do you want me to do?"
"Go down to number two entry bay and bring the two aliens up here under surveillance."
With a microsecond pause, and a finely calculated micromodulation of pitch and timbre--nothing you could actually take offense at--Marvin managed to convey his utter contempt and horror of all things human.
"Just that?" he said.
"Yes," said Trillian firmly.
"I won't enjoy it," said Marvin.
There you go. Marvin, a robot after mine own heart today. I am trying to adjust to my new working hours today. In my old position, I was independent. Able to prioritize and get my jobs done in my own way during the day. Not any more. So, I have been lesson planning all afternoon for my entire teaching week. Grading quizzes and papers. Researching. My mind is slowly turning to mush, and I haven't even clocked in for my first day of work.
Now, let me say that I am grateful that I have a job that provides health benefits for my family. I am. However, I'm having a difficult time summoning enthusiasm for this position, which I've held before. I like my coworkers. One or two are really, really good friends. I think the thing that I'm having difficulty with is losing the sense of freedom I had at my old job. I was sort of my own boss, which I really appreciated.
Now, I'm going to be working long hours for little compensation. I've been at this whole healthcare job thing for over 20 years, and I have never made enough money to completely pay my bills every month. It's always a struggle. I was hoping to land some position which would alleviate this problem. I didn't.
And now I'm trying to figure out how to pay for the replacement of the radiator in my wife's car. That happened on Thursday night. I'm just hoping that's all that's wrong with it. We really can't afford an additional car payment if her engine is toast, as well. That is why I'm a little discouraged heading into this new job tomorrow morning. It seems as though I'm going to be working for the rest of my life, and that life is always going to be a shell game of money.
Stop reading this post now. Please. I'm whining again. Feeling sorry for myself. And I shouldn't. I'm at my mother's home at the moment, and I'm watching her wander around, confused, talking to herself. She's really confused today. My sister who has Down syndrome has been wandering back-and-forth,too, from dining room to living room to bathroom. Since my father died, I've watched them both decline pretty rapidly.
So, my job worries and money worries really are nothing compared to what they're going through. I am so lucky to be able to think and work and write and go to movies and correct papers and tell jokes and write blog posts.
Yet, I find myself struggling. This morning, I simply wanted to stay in bed rather than face the day. I'm sure I will feel that doubly tomorrow morning. I'm not sure if I can call this state I'm in depression, but it is certainly robbing me of motivation and energy. I've been sleeping a lot more than usual. Small tasks seem like Everest expeditions. All I want to do is stay home, read, write, and take naps. That's it.
Maybe Saint Marty should just call in sick for the next, say, five years.
