Title: Late Night Musings
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, The Office doesn't belong to me, otherwise- naw, I won't even go into it.
Summary: Pam's musing late at night. Still. (Bye the bye, did I pick this title perfectly, or what?)
Spoilers: Phyllis' Wedding.
A.N.: I will get back to His and Hers, I swear. Until then, here's the next installment, still sort-ish, but I had to end it here, you'll see why.

Should I get a head start in the morning? Pam thought bemused, taking off The Dress and hanging it in her closet. Her tiny, cramped, pink (yes pink) closet that she adored, making sure to smooth down the stomach of the gown, realizing she'd need to iron it before she wore it once again. The abuse it had suffered the night before when it was torn off and then stuffed on was noble in the way that could only be thought of so late at night. Or early in the morning.

She found her way to her dresser, hands moving nimbly in the moonlit room to the third handle. It was cold, but most all metal was at this time of night. Or morning, but this topic had already been discussed. She pulled it open and selected the blue flannel with sheep on it, bought promptly because it reminded her nothing of Roy. As the cloth was pulled over her head, undergarments discarded, Pam thought about the advantages of arriving early to work. Excellent parking, first pick at coffee, first pick at seeing Jim- the thoughts discontinued after that, Pam would not think about Jim while getting dressed, it just couldn't be done. If she didn't catch herself, she'd go back to when she always thought about Jim. While cooking, faxing, watching TV, reading a book, hearing a good joke, in the shower...

Instead, Pam grabbed her toothbrush, and set about cleaning her teeth. Eventually Pam finished all necessities that could be accomplished in the bathroom, and made her way to her queen sized bed. It was the only luxury she had allowed herself. All her life, Pam's beds had been small. In her room at home as a girl, she'd had a twin bed, then in college she'd moved in with Roy, and they'd shared a double. The glorious luxury of stretching out and not colliding with anything- just a warm soft mattress- was one necessity Pam insisted on, even if that meant less closet space.

While laying back in bed, feeling her muscles tighten and relax, Pam thought back to her original internal monologue. Arriving first to the office had some drawbacks, of course. Pam would have to make it in earlier than Dwight, which was a near impossibility, would see everyone else arrive, have to suffer Michael's insufferable rambling's without any other's help or distraction, and of course, she'd just sit there, at her seat, wanting to come up with something brilliant to say to Jim so he'd turn around, give her one of those fantastic grins, and really look at her. She never realized that he did, until it had stopped.

So Pam was not going to arrive early at the office. In fact she was going to be late. With this decision in mind, At precisely 3:47am, with 23 seconds to spare, Pam switched her alarm twenty minutes forward, and then promptly drifted off to sleep.

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Despite the lack of sleep Pam had faced the night before, she felt remarkably well rested. Until that is, Pam glanced at her alarm clock, and then promptly felt idiotic. Jumping up and then falling onto the carpet, her feet trapped in the hordes of sheets and blankets, Pam decided she was never again going to do something as stupid as change her alarm clock in the middle of the night, no matter the excuse.

Jumping into the shower (the covers safely distanced from her appendages) Pam barely had enough time to get the soap out of her hair until she was awake enough to remember that there was no hot water in her building. Unfortunately for Pam, she had just put conditioner in her hair before this realization took place. Taking the fastest shower of her life, Pam stepped out of her shower and then slipped on a puddle that her not-fully-covered shower had expelled.

While laying on the linoleum, fully naked, dripping wet, Pam thought this may not be her morning. Still, maybe she was over-exaggerating, so with a rub at her side (there was so going to be a bruise) Pam stood up and made her way to the towels in the cubbard. All were missing. And Pam remembered with another one of those flashbacks, that they were all in the wash. Every bleeding one of them. No wait, is there, right in the corner was a washcloth, and when Pam brought it to her face, she saw that it had dust on it. A lot of dust.

Damn.

Sufficiently dried twenty minutes later, her hair up in a bun (no way was she even going to think about drying that) Pam tried to multitask. Putting an english muffin in the toaster, she jumped into her clothes and hunted for her keys. Fifteen minutes later, muffin burned beyond recognition, shirt inside out, although thankfully not backwards, her purse was found, her keys not in them. With an enraged growl, Pam bit into the lesser burned half of the english muffin, starving, looking behind the couch that was just a PAIN to look behind, before she remembered that her car was at the church and her keys were on her night stand. Put there by her last night, so she wouldn't have any trouble finding them and getting her car after work.

HA!

Running into her bedroom, she grabbed her keys, noticing the time and wincing. She grabbed her purse as she ran out the door, and looked for the closest 47 bus stop. Arriving at one of those stands where only the bus numbers were printed, Pam thought she might cry.

Until she saw that there was a number to call, where you were supposed to plug in the bus stop number. Her heart beating wildly, she dug into her purse where (success!) Her cell phone lay. Checking the battery, there were no bars, and Pam nearly closed her phone, until she remembered that sometimes her phone would still make calls, if they weren't long or demanding. She plugged the numbers in, ignoring the twelve voice mails she had, and heard that the bus would be arriving in seven minutes. Finally, she thought as she allowed herself to properly breathe again, something's going right.

She thought about calling in to the office, but the thought seemed to ludicrous (I'm the one people call to) and a waste of the little battery she had, so she just dropped her phone back into her purse and waited. The wait only took six minutes and forty-seven seconds (what else was there to do but count the time?) and Pam branded her barely-used bus pass to the driver before sitting down in the nearest possible seat.

The ride was soothing in most regards, and Pam relaxed. So much so, she missed her stop and had to walk three blocks to get to the office. It was during this walk that she realized she'd left her apartment without a coat of any kind, and her (inside-out) short sleeved blue shirt seemed painfully thin. Still, the building was within eyesight, and Pam comforted herself with the cup of coffee she was going to get. It didn't matter if she had to make it herself, she was going to get that coffee.

The ride in the elevator was peaceful, and Pam leaned against the back wall, her stomach unsettled with the lack of food and drink. At least, that was what she told herself. With a ping, the doors opened, and Pam walked out and into the hallway that led to the office. This is probably the happiest I've ever been to see this door, Pam thought as she reached for the handle. Kelly's chatter was broadcasting, and although the words didn't make sense (they always seemed to blend together unless you were paying hard attention) Pam felt comforted by it. The fact that the door was closed didn't seem to worry Pam, she just opened it, and then promptly wished she hadn't.

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1. Review.
2. Please.
3. Because I want to hear that someone (beside two people) are reading this story, and I don't care what you say, so long as you say it.
get's off soapbox