sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug

I batted a thousand at the reference desk today. You need a list of foreign press bureaus in the DC area? Here you go. Floor statements on the National Health Act of 1946? That would be 92 CR 2299.  On a roll, I began solving the problems of the greater DC community and the world in general. First I explained to Eric that step 1 at his new job should be getting involved with the DC Youth Employment program, because nothing spells efficiency and success like a bunch of crazed teenagers (god love them). Undaunted, I moved on, and volunteered my services collecting money for the Red Cross at Cherry Blossom Festival. Without even being asked, that’s right! All this, while arranging marriages in my mind. How does she do it, you might ask?



Answer: she doesn’t! I hit a wall around 4 pm when I realized I was getting on my OWN last nerve, and decided to take a walk. Interesting fact: the coffee shop in my building will make you an Italian soda. They will in fact make you a CREAM soda if you like drinking half and half, which I normally don’t. The good news is, I’m not an uncaring jerk. The bad news is, I’m just a jerk. Time to focus all that crazyness inward and think about projects that don’t involve human beings, or at least just myself. Good god.


Anyway, Eric informed me that I got a package in the mail. It’s a workout DVD by the spray tanned and porny looking Tracy Anderson. This woman seems dumber than a bag of hammers but what can you do? She gets Gwyneth Paltrow all sexied up and that’s good enough for me.  At this point the biggest obstacle between me and my modeling career is sour patch kids “where am I going to dance this out?” I live in a row house where the room layout is couch–>coffee table–> television with about 1 foot of space between each. I can move the coffee table, sure, but that doesn’t solve the problem of the gigantic bare window in the front of the house. I like my neighbors too much for them to have to see me jazzercising the hours away. Once upon a time for about three months, the drapery issue was solved by a Christmas tree, so I just stopped thinking about it. Dance parties galore! These days I have to remind myself that I’m not actually as isolated as I think I am, enraptured by my reflection in the glass while I flashdance for Mali and Cutie Pie. Sometimes a window is great, but sometimes it’s a Taylor Swift video. I need to better manage my relationship with the outside world, which brings me to the topic of curtains.

If Eric had his way, our home would be a cool wash of grey, but I tend to mix it up with rainbow colors big time. This fabric is a nice compromise right?


He seemed okay with it but maybe he was just being polite. Anyway, I have to think this through a little more. The last week or so I’ve been making snap decisions based on 100% gut instinct and that’s a great way to live, if you’re Charlie Sheen. Granted Charlie Sheen probably doesn’t make his own curtains, but if he did it might be out of this material. For the moment I’ll keep shopping around.
Meanwhile, it is my night to stay late at work, which is always nice for comp time purposes, and also because it justifies a short mental break. For all you Congressional watchdogs, HEEL. I worked straight through lunch today and will probably be here till 8.  Rest assured that I will set my mind to the task of fixing America from the ground up because I’m so good at that.

UPDATE: Whoa, it’s not my late night! I forgot I switched with a coworker who was sick. MY BAD AMERICA. I’m staying till 7 to make it up to the taxpayers.

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