In Which I Include An Email I Sent to Sam

Don't know what to say about my days, now. I get up, get ready, walk to the train. Sometimes I get a seat, and then I read. Sometimes I don't get a seat, and then I despair and listen to my ipod. I'm starting to get aggressive about seat-getting, well, passive aggressive at least.

Then I work. And I like it, but it's work, and I doubt it's interesting to anyone not working there. I come home on the train, reading some more. I walk up the wee hill to our apartment, and discover I've missed Sam so much that I nearly follow him around, telling him how much I like him. (You'd think this would be charming, but my suspicion is that it gets old.)

We eat dinner (We've just developed a clever system that is FINALLY helping us not go out to eat every 35 seconds. The system goes like this: Sam's in charge two days out of the week. It's brilliant.)

I conduct my elaborate routine so I don't have to do much the next morning to get myself out the door: get breakfast ready, pack lunch, get out vitamins and clothes and pack my bag.

And then I sleep. Unless I have insomnia, in which case I read some more, and wake Sam up to ask him how one sleeps because I can't remember how.

And then I do it again. That's it, folks. That's the life. That, and a lot of quick emails to Sam, although I try not to write so many. Here's one, anyway, which I sent this morning:

subject line: am reading wolfy again.

a room of one's own. finally. don't know why it took me 27 years to read this. i think i thought i had. anyway, i hadn't, and it's freaking brilliant.

she even wrote something about meatsock*: "The tailless cat, though some are said to exist in the Isle of Man, is rarer than one thinks. It is a queer animal, quaint rather than beautiful. It is strange what a difference a tail makes ...."

anyway, was stifling giggles of joy all the way down here on the train.

thanks for getting it for me**.

brought a few pictures: our wee engagement photo in a silver frame; the one of you as a lad, typing; the exploded shed, and the frugal card*** you gave me. now i feel like i belong here, like i'm safe.

*meatsock: our kitty
**he brought a used copy back from new york when we were still pretending not to be in love.
***frugal card: sam got me a greeting card with a lady on the front, smirking. it reads: "frugal is such an ugly word." i like it. a lot.


Tia and Amara said…
it shouldn't get old. Work is always work isn't it? Good thing it's something you like.
Jamie said…
Sometimes I get a little depressed with how exactly the same all of my days are. Especially when Survivor ends and I realize how sad I am to not have any reason to look forward to Thursday. It's part of having a regular job...I'm about to hit the five year mark where I'm working. It takes a little more effort to add value to the days when each day is the same, but it's not too hard. And stability certainly has its benefits. While I sometimes miss the crazy ups and downs of school-life, I do think I'm much happier and content in my real grown-up job boring life.
Bryson and Tara said…
So...I finally got caught up with your last several posts... Sorry I dropped the ball when you went private. Congrats on the new job! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I'm sorry that you had to leave the last job, but it sounds like it was definitely for the best. I'm glad you're feeling better.
k. double-u. said…
Your days sound lovely, even if you feel like there's not much to tell. I love that the hill you must climb is wee.
belann said…
There is a lot to be said for just plain routine. I really think it helps to keep us sane.

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