Oh, blessed Friday

I had an early visit from the plumber today for my backed-up kitchen sink. Turned out to be a minor clog, and he didn't even charge me b/c of the company's 90-day guarantee (they visited in November, too). Such good luck! Last time, there was talk of pulling out cabinets and breaking a hole in the wall to replace pipes. Disaster has been averted, at least for now.

I even got to work early.

Now, if I could be even 50% focused and motivated, I could get a lot done today.

Stay tuned.

Dressing for success

Today I feel that I have reached a new summit in my quest for the outfit that perfectly emulates the Catholic-school uniform. My version combines the uniform of my school years with the gothic angst that accompanied them: black and gray plaid skirt, black v-neck sweater, black tights, black loafers with silver buckles.

Of course, in school I had to wear saddle oxfords and a white blouse under my sweater. In the goth/office wear reinterpretation, you're allowed to show a less demure extra three inches of neck/chest.

It's a pretty day, and I just had delicious Thai lunch with my friend Dave. He's the kind of great, solid old friend that makes me think damn, I'm lucky to have good people in my life.

Yesterday and Monday, I drove the 15+ minutes home to eat lunch. Kind of decadent, but not a waste of time. It feels so naughty, like I'm cheating on my job, whenever I venture back to my neighborhood for lunch. There's the feeling that I need to be stealthy, like what if someone I know--my sister, a family friend--sees me and wonders why I've wandered so far from the office? Still, it's a delicious feeling to kick off my shoes and turn on MY stereo, eat off MY plates and drink MY coffee at lunch.

Credit where credit is due

Since I'm in a slightly better mood today, I should credit my college boyfriend for yesterday's title, which came from his haiku. Ten years later, this is still one of my favorite poems ever. I didn't even know I'd committed it to memory, but here it is--more or less:

Bitter coffee grounds
for leaving me, you say.
Angst, horrible angst.

And while I'm at it, another favorite poem by my friend Debbie's brother, written when he was in high school:

Look!
A bird
Drinking...
Water.

We are literary GIANTS, I tell you!

Angst, horrible angst

I'm not sure "angst" is the word for the caveman-like rage I've been feeling lately. I blame January and the end of official holidays. Or the guy who almost squashed me on the highway yesterday b/c he couldn't get into the empty next lane and allow me to merge peacefully. Or the coffee cup of hot milk that jumped out of my hand and all over the kitchen this morning, when I was already late for work.

Also, I blame certain aspects of my job, like the fact that I can't go through the goddamn line at the cafeteria salad bar without entertaining questions from people who don't know how to make appointments. The world is a hostile place in January. If ever there's a season when contentiousness hits an all-time high on a college campus, it has to be mid-winter.

Since I'm playing the blame game, I'll also mention the most recent anti-developments in the three-year non-relationship with a man I've not been dating. We've reached the point where talking about our feelings is no longer productive. We've beaten every last sorry cliche into the ground. Language barely even describes the situation, and it certainly can't change anything. This is the point where we could accomplish more by slamming each other's heads on rocks.

And of course I don't mean that, but I don't really feel like being cheered up, either. Despite my sense of civility, compassion, and "looking at things objectively," I'm still angry enough to feel as sad as I did in my teenage goth days. That's why I'm wearing all-black today, and the world can fuck off.

And one more word....

concombre