Do you know the name of the Pennsylvania town where the American version of “The Office” is set?
If you’ve ever watched even one episode, you probably do.
I’ve watched all of them. Hundreds of times.
Which is what I said to John Krasinski in my dream. Repeatedly. For a solid hour. As I was trying to remember the name of the town.
I was half awake. And this shit went on for a really long time.
It must’ve started sometime around 2am.
I don’t know that for any verifiable reason.
It’s just what my internals are telling me.
And my internals are…well, they’re pretty unreliable. But I’m going with 2am anyway.
The awake part of my brain was panicking. About dementia. And shit.
The asleep part of my brain was working its ass off. Trying different sounds out in its mouth.
It knew it started with an S. So that’s something. I guess.
But it also knew it ended in “ville…”
And that’s what it was saying to John.
Shawsville. Stansville. Statesville?
No. Definitely Shawsville.
That’s what I settled on.
John looked…was it impressed?
No. No, that was a look of disappointment.
So…not Shawsville then…?
The name Scranton came slamming into my brain right before my alarm went off at 4:30.
My last memories of John Krasinski are me screaming “SCRANTON! SCRANTON! SCRANTON!” at him.
So, this is how I know I’m losing my fucking mind.
Because I spent 2 1/2 dream hours with John Krasinski. Trying to remember the name of a fucking town…
Do you know what I should have been doing with John Krasinski for 2 1/2 dream hours…?
What the hell kind of brain wastes 2 1/2 dream hours of John Krasinski like that???
A rapidly deteriorating one.
Forget the fact that I’m losing my words.
I’m also losing any remote understanding I may have ever had about what to do with John Krasinski in my dreams.
I fell asleep in the middle of a conversation last night.
Just passed the fuck out. On my couch. Phone in hand. Thumbs on keyboard.
I have been back at work for two days.
And already I’m mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted.
I’m so exhausted that I basically told John Krasinski that I “had a headache.”
Don’t get me wrong.
I’m happy to be back.
I’ve missed work. And my people. And the kids.
But work isn’t really…work right now.
It feels more like a holding place. Like the universe has just kind of put us all here. Until the next round of shit show unfurls. And we’re all sent back home again.
It has all but stolen any sense of purpose I ever had.
I’m not sure I’ve ever, in my life, felt this irrelevant.
In all of my jobs, too. Not just the FT gig I’ve finally gotten to come back to.
Like, I am doing absolutely nothing to benefit anyone in any way right now.
And my brain just told me that this post is about to take a drastically dark turn.
So, let’s just sum up real quick. So I can go get ready for a day of irrelevance.
If we’re having a conversation and I disappear. (And this can happen both in person or virtually.) Don’t take it personally. I’m either wandering around my brain looking for words. Or for dream John Krasinski. So I can ask for a do over.
My luck, when I find him, he’ll have freakin Emily Blunt with him.
Which…I mean…she’s Emily Blunt, so…