if it's a life of possibilities that you've gotta live then don't be surprised when they don't remember you
So, this car thing? The novelty is going to fade as I do it every day for the Next. Forty. Days. With only my douchebaggy little blackberry to connect me to the real world (uh, yes, I was one of these people this morning). No exercise on the way to work. No coffee. No sandwiches from the deli I eat at everyday. I've got a system that's worked really well for about two years here people. Oh, and listen: I have almost infinite patience for people with personality disorders who I know I have to work with off and on (I've been to law school and worked in politics; I've met all of you). Don't, please don't test this capacity of mine by coming in a warehouse I've worked for two days and insinuating I've done it all wrong because "I'm just saying, we did it differently last time" in thirty different ways when I've actually done nothing wrong at all just because you need to feel smarter than me, because I will lose my shit eventually. Also: don't tell me your full medical history at 7am. Or really ever. Your business is not my business until Death Do Us Part or something close to there. David said it best when I explained this situation to him at solly's tonight and he said, "Yeah, I've known you for two years and I still know nothing about you." This is going to be a bad, fucking piece of crap month, and I hope you'll all bear with me until it's over. Blissfully, blissfully over.
Addendum: Is it a bad sign at my day job when every single one of my coworkers who finds out I'm an art critic on the side exclaims, "That is SO MUCH more interesting!" Sigh.
Addendum 2: I really don't hate my job. Really. This is a bad coalescence of all the wrong things. It's karmic retribution for me telling my friend, "Gosh, I suddenly have so much free time these days!"