5.14.99

Quickly, I must tell you that yesterday some kind of horrible luck attached itself to me. I don't know when it started, but I estimate somewhere shortly after midnight when I forgot to disconnect from my isp. I woke to the blip of email arriving, realizing the error. Not such a big deal, if I were here alone. But I'm not here alone and Joan does her phone calling in the morning. She was gone by that time, and I imagined her unable to use the phone. I imagined her fuming. This doesn't sound like bad luck, right? Nothing really bad happened to me all day, just a bunch of these little weird things. It continued from there: I walked out to my car to find it covered in bird shit. Impossible giant, chunky pancakes. There was an unavoidable one on the driver's door handle. I looked up to blank sky: no wires, no trees. Just this car, a designated target. There was an unbelievable line at the dry cleaner because the man behind the counter was more content to chat than work. Waiting and waiting. I could not find parking anywhere around the gym because Clinton was in town. I drove round and round. I have this rule that I will just pay to park in a lot after a certain number of circles, or a certain amount of time. For whatever reason, I didn't adhere to my own rule. Finally a space opened up in a 1-hour spot. I grabbed it, thinking that I didn't have time for a long workout anyway; got the ticket anyway. From the 14th floor stairmaster, I saw protesters below. A variety of nice slogans for our president: rapist, Benedict Bill. My favorite: Soup du jour: Won Ton. Seasoned with treason. Went for a quick lunch to go at World Wraps, along with all of the kids from O'Dea high school and the nearby hospitals. I was so irritated at this point, by the ticket and the other things: Traffic was generally aggravating. Pedestrians were everywhere and moving too slow. And these people waiting for food would not make use of space, would not release their small town etiquette and just push for what they wanted. Instead, they spat out "Excuse me", would not touch me but waiting for me to move out of the way for them. I would have preferred that they just squeeze by me and not involve me in their needs. I kept thinking that if I could just get to work, I'd be fine. Locked in my office with my burrito. Safe. Driving like crazy, but decided I shouldn't test fate. Couldn't find my wallet, then lost my keys. Eventually locked myself out of my office. Every time I spoke, nonsensical phrases emerged. Where will it end? Had a client in who was so disgustingly smarmy toward me. I couldn't help but laugh even as I felt disgusted. By the time I got to Angela's house to pick her up for a movie, I felt totally out of control. I asked her to drive, and she did. That's when things finally got better. We slipped into a smooth groove of riding whim. We ate at Garage, got tickets for Between Your Legs at the last minute, ate fabulous dessert. Gone to Philadelphia; see you in a week.

future past index