January 29, 2002
Go ask Alice...
So. Let's just say that I've been busy. I've worked more in the last two months as a contractor than I have in the last two years as an FTE at the pharma. Go figure. 'S Ok. I like it. I am now learning how to program macros in Microsoft Word. How impressive, yes, I know.
And I have been having the most bizarre dreams. But I won't relate them here simply because they are now too old for me to recount accurately and they've kinda lost my interest. Whatever. I was talking to J about my dreams. He never likes to hear my dreams, and I never understood why. They're stories after all. But then I was spending the weekend with Reuben, Wayne, Buddy, Rosie, and Reuben's sister, Phyllis, the Travelling Nurse. Wayne started to tell me one of his dreams, and I thought, "I have no idea what he's talking about." It made no sense to me at all. And then it occurred to me why J doesn't like me to tell my dreams. It's possible that because they are so personal and so intimate that no one else could possibly understand the significance of the imagery and events of the dream. So, it all becomes something of a blur, or even something out of Twin Peaks. I never understood that show.
That's really all. I got my haircut on Saturday. I hate the NT-level security of Windows 2000. Why should anyone have to sign on to a computer if they're the only one using it? Just turn it on and let me use it, for crying out loud. It's just about damn cold out here right now, and I'm a little fed up.
I went out to my car this morning, 9:30-ish, and there was frost!!! on my windows. I grew up in the Midwest, so the snow and frost thing isn't new to me, but over the last twelve years that I have lived in California, I have misplaced my ice scraper, and thus had to rely on an expired club membership card to bail me out. And then the sun rose up over the neighboring building and melted the rest away. And I'm freezing my cojones off, and that's never good.
My beautiful laundrette burned down over the weekend. Milt's 24 Hour Laundry on Telegraph in Berkeley is gone. J called to tell me. When he was growing up in Philadelphia, his father used to chase fire trucks to watch the fires they were called to (and the men who were extinguishing those fires, too, probably). So, when J saw the four-alarm blaze from down the road, he had to stop and watch.
Anyway, I am so upset, like you wouldn't believe. I was able to sashay my tired ass into that laundromat at 11:00 p.m. on a Saturday night (remember that I have no life) and leave there by 12:30 a.m. without having to wait in line for a dryer. And now, I'm stuck. I have to find another 24-hour laundromat somewhere nearby.
I know it sounds pathetic, but it was part of my life for three years, and now it's not. So I have to find something else to do.
OK, it is pathetic.
That's all.
