I wish someone would walk into this room right now with a piping hot tray of breakfast things. Toast and eggs and maybe some cantaloupe, as well. While I wish, I sit with dirty feet and drink a concoction of almond milk and concentrated coffee with laundry churning away in the basement.
I should be interested in the 4th of July. I am not. I keep thinking of 4ths of July past and feeling a bit morose.
Despite my dislike of him, I am a little sorry my neighbor across the hall moved out. The landing seems creepier now. There is an errant dust bunny. I hate to think of the empty apartment that once so joyously housed a foosball table in the kitchen. I hope somebody new moves in tomorrow.
I recently signed up to do some volunteer work at the library, as a means of beefing up my grad school applications as well as exposing myself to the environment and people of the place. Yesterday afternoon I assembled an outfit nearing business casual so as to wear to meet the volunteer coordinator. I haven’t had to don office clothes in quite a long while. This attire is not missed by me.
The weather was sort of perfect for uncomfortable dress, though, since it wasn’t hot and it was quite breezy. I rode the el downtown and met up with the guy, who was as unapologetically homosexual as I expected him to be. Despite remarking that he has little time to spend on matters volunteering, he spent an hour and a half with me that culminated in him showing me his personal quilting/travel blog.
Once my thorough background check is complete, I can begin work. I have high hopes that I’ll end up getting a lot out of this.
The boyfriend left for parts desert once more today. I kind of hate seeing him go, though I also appreciate the opportunity to have a couple days to myself. Our daily routines have become closely intertwined, which is both comfortable and uncomfortable. In reading about the scandalous affairs of the South Carolina governor, I was struck by a comment his wife made.
“I believe enduring love is primarily a commitment and an act of will, and for a marriage to be successful, that commitment must be reciprocal.”
I’m not married and I cannot relate to this woman on any other level, but there’s something to the idea of love requiring mental fortitude that strikes me as practical and true.
I am sorting through my closet and stacking things to be cast away. These days I mostly wear cutoffs and tee shirts in various states of decay and sandals. I have grown tired of looking at vintage-y things in my closet, which now seem a ridiculous relic from a life no longer lived. So many things appropriate in California have no use in other parts of the world.
The other day it was very hot. I rode my bike to the beach and waded into the water about knee deep. It was cold and eerily still, the bottom hard with ridges put there by an invisible current. Lake swimming just isn’t exciting to me.
My houseplants never do very well, herbs in particular. But I recently came into possession of a mint plant that is truly flourishing on my kitchen windowsill. If it makes it through winter next summer might find me with many mint flavored cocktails.
Yesterday at a theme park a teenager stomped on a packet of mustard and it exploded all over my legs and I was angry. I snapped at the youngster and said, “Well, that was a fucking stupid thing to do!” and then wiped away the mustard and my dignity with a coupon.
My hair is getting super long so I’ve had to start brushing it for the first time in years. Every movie I see with a cute shorthaired girl makes me want to have the shears taken to it, but the lady minded toward frugality in me notes the practicality of not having to maintain cuteness.
Hot Saturdays spent in air conditioning are kind of the best though I am starting to realize the warm weather is a short lived luxury that ought not be taken for granted despite how accursed it is.
On this day which took Michael Jackson away, my stupid noisy neighbor is moving out. Blessed be!
Tonight I took a long bike ride on the path that runs along Lake Michigan. Even at 8 o’clock, the beach was still crowded with swimmers and volleyball players and people obstructing the hundreds of bikers using the path. It’s sometimes hard to believe that only a couple of months ago, the beach was hidden under feet of snow and the water was completely iced over. I think tomorrow I will go swimming, though the water is still hovering around 65 degrees.
Today I had a delicious smoothie, a delicious breakfast, a great talk with a friend, and wrote what I think and hope was a pretty good piece for my writing class. I shall file this day under success.
Somewhere not far from where I now recline, a lady trucker might be searching for a skunk-besmirched boxer named Brian. We encountered her here in Green River, Utah as we walked back to our hotel from a truck stop where the cashier kept telling a friend that she didn’t threaten to kill her daughter’s boyfriend, she promised.
I woke up at about three o’clock this morning and flew first to Denver and then to Vegas. As soon as I got in the car, it was decided that we might as well drive back to Chicago right that second. So here we are, in easternish Utah. Never before have I flown to a place only to turn immediately back around for a multi-day drive back to my point of origin. I missed my boyfriend.
I had a great pre-dawn ride to O’Hare with an enthusiastic Somalian man. It rained a great deal last night and the darkened and still wet city was a nice sight from the back of the Somali’s efficient taxi.
Look kids, it’s the momentary ghost of Michael McDonald!
The mix cd that I made back in early March and accidentally left in the car share car is still going strong. I wonder who has been listening to it and whether they are totally into the mix of old Sleater Kinney and Mission of Burma.
