Zhaba Zhournal
Thursday, August 26, 2004 
"Today is another day" dep't. 
Your Honor, I respectfully request that yesterday be stricken from the transcript.

After the morning suckage, the lunchtime retail therapy helped me get through the workday afternoon fairly well (although I think I overdosed on feta cheese); but I managed to miss both my usual bus (6:15-ish) and my "this is the latest bus I want to take" bus (6:35-ish), and had to wait for the "crap, I'm going to miss the Daily Show" bus (6:55-ish). And then on the second leg of the commute, at the subway platform, I encountered the dreaded Inappropriately-Friendly Crazy Guy: the kind who wants to introduce himself to you, and shake your hand, and hug you, and tell you how sad he is about the World Trade Center (which in his mind seems to have happened very recently), and then he goes and talks to his imaginary friend, or something, and then comes back and strikes up the same conversation—ack. And the subway just would not come. My usual procedure with crazy guys is to humor them as much as possible until I can make a graceful escape; so I kept up my side of the conversation (no matter how many times it happened), and said sympathetic and hopefully soothing things. The subway finally showed up, and of course he wanted to ride with me; I said "I'm getting off at the next stop" (which actually is my stop, although if it wasn't I might have said it was anyway), and decided that I wasn't going to lay down the "you really have to leave me alone now" law unless he got off at the same stop and tried to follow me home. Fortunately he didn't; I said "goodbye, hope you feel better"; then I walked the rest of the way home damn fast (with occasional glances over my shoulder), and arrived just as the Daily Show interview with John Kerry was ending. Oy. Yeah, it was that kind of day.

A hot shower, a bottle of hard cider, and five straight hours of Olympics-watching made the evening the best part of the day; but last night I had a whole slew of anxiety dreams (wearing a bathing suit! there's a hole in the back of my pants and no one told me about it! we're moving to the middle of the desert! endangered birds eating each other's babies!)—so if you don't mind, Your Honor, let's chalk everything from 8:30 a.m. Wednesday to 7:30 a.m. this morning up as a loss, instruct the jury to ignore it, and start over today from scratch, okay?

Oh well; at least I've got a nice shiny rock to show for it all...

[ at 11:51 AM • by Abby • permalink  ]

Yes, that's me.


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