At work we have a staff of ladies who run the kitchen. They make all the food for meetings and for the lawyers' lunch. They have to bring the food to the boardrooms and clean them up later and they also have to clean the main staff kitchen and all the satellite kitchenettes. This is in addition to looking after the kitchen they prepare the food in! I think they have the shittiest jobs in the whole place. They probably work the hardest and put up with more crap for the least money … somehow they are also the most beautiful there people too. This morning I was queued up waiting to scan some document, leaning against the wall near the kitchenette on my floor. One of the kitchen ladies was cleaning the sink and singing. She was singing a song, in her language and it made me feel very happy in my heart.
It pleases me that I still have the spare key to my car, even though the car itself is in Philadelphia. Fucker.
Wes told me, at the party, people kept asking him, Isn't she doing so great? And he'd smile and say yeah, and wonder when I was finally going to crack up. I'm glad we now know the answer. I was beginning to wonder that, myself.
A big scary crack is working its way down my side and that is why I can't stop running now – even if I fuck up my knee entirely trying to get away from it.
Tonight, I deleted most of the pictures from my old life from my Flickr account. It kinda sucked, and I had to go for a walk after, but I waited so long to deal with it that it wasn't so bad. I guess. Or maybe it was – I picked a fight with a relatively undeserving friend on MSN not more than an hour after getting back.
I hope the kitchen lady is singing again tomorrow.