Day 7: Still Resting

"Hi Hun-

You haven't answered my previous 18,000 emails, I must therefore send the search crews out. Dogs, maybe. But definitively the hordes of people in rubber boots and bright orange jackets.

Life in Academia is still the same. I teach. I learn. Lately, I've been particularly fascinated by my Arch theory professor's blackheads. I think they might date from the mid-20th century and are fossilized. It's both repulsive and mezmerizing. I fixate on his nose when he talks. I think I might get expelled.

Too tired to talk. Respond, or find scary man with stick (they always have sticks) on your doorstep.

Andrea"

_______________________

"I am still breathing, although barely. I think the office might be recycling the air to cut costs.

Sorry for the no-replies. I can only hope that one day you join the workforce, stop sending any personal emails, and then understand the exhaustion you suffer after 18 hours in front of a computer.

I'm at home. I just had a latte. I'm debating between going shopping for new jeans (gaaah, and you know how much tall people hate shopping for jeans) or just stay at home, sitting on the couch, with a brain activity of ziltch. Reduce my brain waves to less than those of a comatose hamster.

I know I need to give you something interesting about my life so you won't give up on me. I got nothing.

Am I demoted?

_________________________________________________________________

Day 7: Resting

'skim latte please'

I'm not into the craze of the 'half-fat double shot with whip and a shot of caramel but no caramel topping. I do love a latte done right.

I'm resting today. This morning, I drifted in and out of sleep for an hour after I naturally woke up (no alarm!). Pure decadence.

I now get to quietly sip my latte, think about whether or not skinny jeans look good on everyone.

Day 6: Bussing

Worse bus line. Ever.

I'm not bragging, this is a fact: my bus line won the award from the city newspaper. In fact, it wins the worse bus award every year.

It drives through all the slummy areas of town before hitting my 'up-and-coming' neighborhood. It's not really up-and-coming. It's thinking of up-and-coming, it's just not ready to start the ball rolling.

In the morning, I can sometimes find needles on my doorstep, along with random patches of vomit (I live close to the neighborhood 'main street', which is cool when you want delicious pastries from the Italian shop, but not so cool when at 4 in the morning there are hooligans are throwing beer bottles at each other).

I'm thinking of investing in real estate, but realistically, on a megre designer salary, the only thing I could afford would be a tiny run-down space in a smelly building on a sketchy street.

However, if I did stop renting, I could potentially RENOVATE. Hmmm.

Day 6: Estimating Number of Split Hairs and Best Course of Action

I haven't paid for a haircut in months. Six weeks ago, Allison attempted to cut my bangs with her kitchen scissors; the first strand cut sent us both in a panic and we abbandonned the project. I now have a short bit of hair that sticks out.

Michael assigned me to a more down-to-earth task, i.e. maximizing a floor plate for the tower project. I have to fit the most amount of apartments in the most efficient way, with standard models. Usually, we try to have 3 identical condominiums repeat, that way it keeps the costs down.

I already have 3 different options, so I feel like I've earned the luxury of a 2-minute unofficial break. Cutting split ends one by one are always a great way to relax. I'm mezmerized at how thin those hairs can split...

Day 6: Not Resting

The office is still quiet. In a few hours, it'll be buzzing with activity.

I like coming in early on Saturdays. It gives me time to gather my thoughts/spy on what everyone else is working on. I can even use the coffee machine properly and foam milk for a latte (a forbidden activity during regular hours, apparently the frothing sound irritates Michael. I think he's just lactose-intolerant and taking it out on innocent caffeine-deprived employees).

It's weird to see a space empty of live bodies, and imagine what it could be if different people inhabitated it. It could all be bubbly, happy people. Or it could be filled with just regular people, not a population of tense, tortured individuals. It's like being in an empty house and imagining how different families would have different lives in the space. Hmm. Very philosophical morning. Must drink more lattes.

Day 5: Post Debriefing

Michelle: Do u think I should call?

Me: U should call if u really want to find out.

Michelle: Sleeping with lecture guy = not smartest move.

Me: Glad we R on same page.

Michelle: I'm calling. Now.

Me: STOP! It's 2am, only lunatics and stalkers call at this hour.

Michelle: Email?

Me: Not when u have 6 scotches running in ur blood.

Michelle: Do u think I should report him to the Architect Association?

Me: Doubt the Arch Association can enforce the 3 day phone call rule.

Day 5: Happy Hour

I'm sitting at a trendy bar/pub, waiting for Michelle. We have a post-workday debrief session (i.e. liquid dinner).

She walks in, all shiny hair and fabulous pale skin.

Michelle: 'I say it's a 5: 3: 1 today'

When we're out, we like to estimate the ratio of genders (it's Male: Female: Androgynous). Today's bar is packed with the trendy crowd and its followers.
Michelle, drinking straight scotch, is pouting.

Michelle: ‘I waited and waited. Cursed at my phone. Tried to hypnotize it. It never rang’.

Me: 'Was I supposed to call you? Did I miss your call? Is my phone on silent??'

Michelle: 'Relax, muppet. I'm talking about the guy I'm seeing. It was all happening, and then the telecommunications ceased.'

She drapes herself into the chair facing me.

Michelle: ‘I just don’t understaaaaaaaand, I thought we meshed’.

Me: ‘Who? Who were you meshing with? Was it that guy, John?’

Michelle’s love life is hard to follow. I sometimes have to take notes and draw diagrams to fully keep track of it.

Michelle: ‘John??’. Michelle's eyes are dripping with distain. ‘Peuh! John was out of the picture the minute he told me he was looking at purchasing a condo. In the burb's'.
Fair enough. Burbans are a species we can't understand. Why mow your lawn and sit for 3 hours in traffic when you can purchase a downtown loft?

Me: ‘Say no more'. I pause to take a sip of my bubbly. I know drinking scotch has so much more 'gueule', but I love prosecco/cava/champagne. I'm girly and I embrace it.

Me: ‘So… If it's not John, who is the phone-shy guy?’

Michelle: ‘Remember when we went to the lecture on the future of high-rises last week? Remember the guest lecturer that did the introduction to the main presenter?’

Me: Oh. My. God. You DIDN'T!