November 13, 2001
Industrial Vaccuum Madness
I was so close to him for 34 minutes.
It is strange for me. Talking to him as though I just talked to him, which is how it was. I wish we could be awkward and desperate with each other but it's still what's-up-what-have-you-been-doing-you-won't-believe-what-this-stupid-bastard-did-today-I'm-not-getting-much-sleep-work-was-monotonous-you're-a-bastard-O-yeah-well-you-worry-too-much-must-go-laundry-all-over-the-floor-must-get-to-bed-I-will-try-and-call-I-love-you-I-love-you-too.
I miss the comfortable things. I miss his couch.
Amendment: I miss him on his couch.
Amendment: I miss him shirtless on his couch.
Speaking of shirtless, I am spoiled by the industrial vaccuum at work. That bastard will suck up anything. Yesterday it ate the Mountain Man Beard. Today it swallowed an assortment of straight pins and string tags. And half of a silver tinsel clown wig.
It's fucking awesome.
So I spent all of yesterday and most of today sweeping out the wig boxes in the back. I took this six hour task upon myself, but have actually been kind of enjoying it. I least I have a reason to be working all by myself and don't have to get all miserable about my fellow young co-workers more or less ignoring me.
Other than Ben telling me I should bring in more cookies like a good wife.
I'm someone's wife?
Not for a good five or six years, but I think I've got the unfortunate bastard already picked out...
astera at 10:41 p.m.