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.
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.
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