Vanity

One of the many rules for working in a construction zone is that open-toed shoes are forbidden. Nevertheless, I am wearing my new blue skirt (skirts I think are also forbidden, but I only own one pair of jeans and cannot reasonably wear them every day for three months) and I wanted to bring out the blue sandals for their debut appearance.

About ten steps into the walk it became clear that these sandals had only been pretending to be comfortable and, now that they were safely out of the store, they could reveal the sandpaper/knife edge thing they'd been saving for the top of my foot. Despite the fact that I was carrying a pair of perfectly serviceable close-toed shoes to put on at work, I continued to wear the torture sandals for ten blocks. Long enough, as it turns out, to draw blood. From both feet. But they did match my skirt. So that's something.

My secret shame

Just now I bought a loaf of sourdough. Having missed lunch, I'm feeling peckish, so I thought I'd just tear off the heel of the loaf to snack on on my way home. I reached in, clutched the end, exerted force, and--nothing happened. After a block, I gave up.

That's right people. In a battle of strength, I have been bested by...bread.

Calico Hard Hat

The whole working in a construction zone thing continues to be a wonderous and varied experience. I am pleased to report that this is the first day since being in this building that my fingers are finger-colored rather than blue. How can this possibly be true, you ask? Simple. I was so embarrassingly bitchy in the staff meeting on Monday (Staff shares a hearty chuckle about our shared plight in sub zero temperatures; I interrupt saying "Yeah. No. It's actually not funny. At all. I have spent the day wrapped in a blanket. Not okay.")that they have run 600 feet of extention cord to some viable power source such that I can be provided with a space heater. Positive reinforcement of bad behavior. Bolstered by these immediate favorable results, there's no telling what I'll ask for next.

Meanwhile, anywhere beyond my office door continues to be a frosty wasteland where my more polite/stoic colleagues scuttle around clad in various down-filled outerwear. There are plenty of ladders and exposed electrical cords. There's a half-finished bathroom. There are boarded-up windows.

Yet, among all these things, the one that makes me feel most abandonned is perhaps the jug of water that sits alone on a table in the hallway. It is one of those large containers that is meant to be turned upside down on a water cooler--that center of office life. Of course, we don't actually have a water cooler. Therefore, our water jug sits upright and has been fitted with a spout and a pump. To use this is to instantly evoke Little House on the Prairie. I can't shake the feeling that Pa has just sent me out back to fetch a pail of water for Ma.

Rock on

A homeless (or possibly just miscellaneously crazy) guy has set himself up across the street from the school. Presumably, he's chosen this paricular spot because it affords such a great view of the building construction. And everyone knows there's nothing more entertaining than watching people shuttle debris out of a constuction site into a dumpster. He is sitting on a little raised ledge that marks the edge of a planted area. In fact, "sitting" may be a generous term; the only reason he is not lying down is because he is being supported by the little fence that protects the plants. He is passed out against it, but it sags under his weight so his body is curved into an uncomfortable looking "C". Beside him on the sidewalk is a sizeable boom box. It is blasting "Born to be Wild."

Rock on, crazy passed out guy. Rock on.

The beauty of a comma

There's a new Dave Matthews song on the radio right now, the chorus of which is "Stay beautiful baby. I hope you stay American baby. Stay beautiful baby."

So, my question is, where do the commas go? Is this a plea to maintain a strict beauty regimen and to please not revoke citizenship? Or is it simply a request for a lovely American to not wander off?