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My whole day has been instantly thrown off. I thought my boss was away today and tomorrow, leaving the whole office to myself, but I walked up the stairs today and he was here! Not that he’s a bad guy or anything, but I was looking forward to having full-reign over the stereo. I’m the kinda guy that uses the “repeat-1″ button, and some people just can’t handle that.
So, you know that weird property the Fakehouse has where, if you don’t hear from them, you feel like they probably have gotten sick of you and hate you? Even in my most unhealthy relationships, I’ve never had this level of fickle insecurity. So, anyways, I need to call them and go give them rent and get a key so I can move my laboratory over there, and I need to remind myself to be calm. That they still like me. That everything’s gonna be OK.
Last night I was listening to John Hodgman’s “The Areas of My Expertise”, and got to the part with Prohibition-era euphemisms for alcohol. Still, today, I occasionally remember “jazz chowder” and laugh.
Another day, another dollar,