Last night when I went to bed, I knew I had to be up early this morning to go to the interview. It didn’t start until noon, but it was downtown, where I’ve never been by myself, and where, I knew perfectly well, I would get lost. So I left at 11. Which meant I had to be up at 10.
Okay, so that’s not early really, especially since I have to be up at 6:30 twice a week, but I knew I’d sleep in, because I was up late, so I had to sleep with my light on, just to wake up in the morning. Never mind that I had set four alarms, in the hopes that I might hear one; nowadays if I expect to wake up on my own anytime before 11, I have to keep the light on.
The thing about keeping the light on is that it keeps me from ever actually going to sleep. I doze off, but wake up again in a few minutes, because the light glaring into my eyes startles me into submission. And then I doze off again, and jolt awake again…the cycle continues all night long. So I never get what you can actually call “sleep”. I think it might actually be more effective if I didn’t bother going to bed at all.
So I get out of bed, and I’m tired and achy, and then I get in the shower, get dressed, look at the directions a few more times, and I’m on my way.
I did fine until I got off the bridge. And then I immediately took a wrong turn. After driving all the way to water and being forced to take a right turn, when the first turn I made was supposed to be a left one, I called my mom. Finally, after about half an hour of driving around with one hand on the steering wheel (which I’m not too skilled at) and the other hand on the phone, I spotted the building. I drove around the whole block a few times, until I’d figured out how to turn into the parking lot, and then parked.
All of this in the rain. There were several near-cataclysmic escapades involving my lack of brakes when it rains. But I made it. It was 11:55.
I went inside. I got a table, ordered water and lemon (they had lime, which it turns out tastes even better than lemon in water). I waited.
I ordered black bean soup. It came, was delicious; I ate it very slowly. I read FolioWeekly.
I checked the time. 12:40. Where was she? I didn’t have her number with me, or I would have called. I ordered a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich on grain bread. That, too, was delectable. It came with a side of corn chips, pesto, and hummus. Everything I ate was fantastic.
She never showed. Never called. Never e-mailed. I still do not know where she is.
This means I have been stood up twice in the span of a week! (Not by the same person. See “Fake Date” entry of a few days ago.)
Tinny and I served green rice in the café tonight, for St. Paddy’s Day. We came up with a little routine to give all the stupid people who asked what was giving the rice its lovely hue, or even, if you can imagine, why the rice was green. Hello. It is the single day out of the year you see more green than at any other time. We couldn’t figure out whether plutonium or Kryptonite was funnier, so we used both.
STUPID CUSTOMER: What’s the green stuff in the rice?
ME: It was shipped in special today from Krypton.
TINNY: *to Me* Oh, don’t be ridiculous. *to Stupid Customer* It’s just laced with plutonium.
This one guy came in and asked, and when I told him it had Kryptonite in it, he said, “Oh, well…better stay away from that, then…I’m allergic to Kryptonite.”
Tinny said, “Don’t listen to her; it’s just plutonium.”
He said, “Oh, that’s okay, then; I can eat that.”
Today it came to my attention (I’d never thought about it before) that the luckiest day of the year falls only two days after the unluckiest day of the year. Although this year they seemed to be swapped. I had a good Ides of March, and what happened to me today? I got stood up.
Remember my love of Thursday nights? So I went out to Milo’s room tonight like usual to just chill and watch TV with him, and then he said he wanted to call his mom, so I said okay, cool, I’d let him be until he was done.
A little while later, Mo called, and he’s been out there talking with her ever since. Wonderful Thursday night hanging with Milo did not happen.
And then, while sitting in my room reading, I got a phone call from John Belushi, who has turned out to be…well…he’s nice and all…but…I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor. He doesn’t smile very often. I just…I don’t know. I don’t want to be mean, so I won’t go any further.
…Except that, when you go out with someone who looks remarkably like John Belushi, or any Belushi at all, you expect him to have a more noticeable sense of humor. I can’t tolerate people without senses of humor. And this was like false advertisement.
I’m hanging with another guy (this one named Tyler) over spring break. He’s cool. He told me I “seem to have a clever wit” about me, and that he could totally see me as a journalist.
I’ve been meaning to comment on this for a while. It’s something I find really funny and exasperating at the same time. Tinny doesn’t experience this as much as I do, because she takes the plates; but I, being the one to hand the plates back, put up with it quite frequently. So often, you’ll be handing the plate back, and there will be stuff on it, sauce or something, and you’ll wish to hand it to the person in such a way that they don’t get the food all over their hand. I will actually, even when busy, always attempt to turn the plate so that they have a clear spot to grab. I sometimes turn the plate completely around, so that I am almost touching the food with my gloves—and the person will, almost without fail, and no matter how awkward it looks, still reach for the spot with the most food on it. Tinny, look for this when we get back, if you haven’t seen it before.
Thus ends my commentary for the moment.