April 18th, 2002. Thursday
 

 

    I'm sort of freaking out right now, because next week one of my co-workers is going on vacation. Actually, she's leaving tomorrow. This is the person who i basically help out. She does all the real work. So while she's gone, I'm expected to step up and cover all her work for her. She's left detailed instructions on what needs to be done day to day, when it needs to be done, etc. And I feel like a big idiot for not being able to really follow them. i'm just hoping that somehow everything will become clear at some point early next week. Regardless, I'm not looking forward to next week. Very stressful. I hate when I'm stressed out over things I don't care about. On the bright side, the Wilco show is next week also, and I cannot wait for that.

    So yesterday after work, I had some time to kill. So I wandered around Soho a bit, taking a circuitous route on my way downtown to the night job. I stopped off for a milkshake, which cost an exorbitant $4.50, then stopped by Rodzilla's place of business, the wine store on Broome St. She was fairly busy and said she couldn't hang out, so I only stayed a minute or so. Then wandered over to Chinatown and bought a five pound box of noodles. I like noodles.

    Then it turned out that I didn't have a tv show to watch at work until 9. Rodzilla called, wondering why I'd left so soon. So I walked the few blocks back up to the wine shop(pe). The place was empty, so I sat at the bar and had a couple refreshing glasses of white wine. It was still mighty hot outside, so the chilled wine hit the spot. Cheese was also served.

    So we caught up a little bit. We spent some time talking about her new pants, and her hair. And the fact that she was wearing lipstick, which made me suspicious. Rodzilla has also decided to go to Boston in the fall, where she'll be attending an MA program at Harvard. I have conflicting feelings about this. My first instinct is that, in terms of me and her, it will be a good thing. My second thought though, is that it doesn't make me all that happy. Still, a year ago, those feelings would have been in the opposite order. So i'm sure it'll do us a lot of good in the long run to be a few hundred miles apart. We never really got a clean break, which has made the transition to friends a lot harder and more awkward. Anyway, I haven't actually given the matter much thought. Like most things I find somewhat troubling these days, I'm conveniently ignoring them until the moment that I absolutely cannot avoid them any longer. It's made everyday existence much easier. It's kind of like yanking a tooth out, taking one moment sharp, stabbing pain instead of letting a more mild yet annoying pain drive you nuts for days. Not that I'm likening Rodzilla to a cavity-ridden, dead tooth.

    Anyway, should we talk about the weather? I came to the office rather early today, and when I walked in around 8:30, the heat was already unbearable. Ironically, it was the debilitating heat that made me so tired and kept me from putting my air conditioner back in the window last night. It wouldn't be as bad if I had clean bed sheets to put on. But there's no avoiding the feeling that you're being baked alive when you're sleeping in flannel sheets in a room that's 80 degrees. I never bothered to wash the regular sheets when I changed to flannel in November, and now I am paying the price. I was just too lazy to add the extra heft to my laundry bag. I've been washing them a piece at a time for the last few weeks, but still don't have a complete set. I just hate carrying all that down to the laundromat.

    Speaking of laundry, I think the reason I don't excercise more is because I have to do my own laundry. Right now, I've got exactly enough pairs of underpants and socks to last me two weeks. If something happens during the week and I'm thrown off my schedule, i'm screwed. Plus, my laundrybag is heavy enough, and if I were to excercise more, there'd be a lot of extra t-shirts, shorts, and towels in the bag, and that's another pain in the ass. If only I had a laundry machine in my apartment building, I'm sure I would be a lot healthier.

    I rode the subway into the city this morning with "Miss Charming Melodee," one of the upstairs neighbors. So naturally we made small talk. I only mention this because no one really talks on the subway, and when people do, you always notice. Because, besides the obvious breach of silence, the conversations always seem to sound extra stupid on the subway. But as much as I always notice people talking, I never seem to think about it when I myself am having a conversation, even if it's comprised of the most inane small talk. This is just a little observation. I'm not sure it has much significance. But now I've been going over the conversation and trying to see it from someone else's point of view. I think I sound like an idiot. Not that that matters. Much.

    On the way to work this morning, I saw a dead chicken with its head cut off sitting on the sidewalk. It had feathers and everything. Now how in the world do you think it ended up there in that condition? Maybe it was an unsuccessful attempt to cross the road. ha.
 
 

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