The trouble with having a blog is that it gets to be a garden that needs maintenance. The blogger has to fill the roles of plant, soil, shovel, etc. Anyone who has read far back enough knows I’m no good at that manual labor stuff, especially when it involves dirt. Even when it’s completely metaphorical labor involving completely metaphorical dirt.
Going home provided much blog fodder, just as it should. I meant to play around with putting all the thoughts and feelings into words today, but… Remember when I mentioned that I had a mentor who had me doing PR work for her real estate clients? One of those clients contacted me over my Texas vacation and offered me a gig at his office doing simple work and a newsletter or something. My new job starts in August and in the meantime, I’m working at another midtown office and setting my own hours - holla! The majority of my workday was spent gabbing with Head Honcho and eating an inordinately large salad.
So there’s an excuse of sorts for not writing. I’m still tutoring, too. And the noisy gutting of the apartment next door to mine has unleashed a torrent of roaches my way. Nice - roommates.
Speaking of roommates, I mistakenly referred to my next door neighbor as my roommate today. This mislabeling speaks volumes. The wall between our apartments is so thin that I can hear his cellphone vibrate. He no doubt hears the thud of my jumping jacks to old Stevie Wonder songs. Once I sneezed, and I think I heard him say, “Bless you.”
Not to mention that I look inside his open refrigerator from my window, often while I’m in my underwear. That boy loves his chips and salsa.
