Saturday, March 29, 1997:
or the baby just got up
or the baby needs to be fed
or the baby did something cute.
I decided not to call Cheryl after all.
Sunday, March 30 1997: I had a little visitor this afternoon. I know his type. Always showing up when I least expect him. No warning. A surprise to both of us. I see him and I want to kill him. Make him die like the vermin he is. Crush him under my boot. Smash his little skull. ButÉhe is so cute. Precious, even. I hate him. I want to keep him as a pet. I'm so confused.
Confident in knowing that he can find that place in me, he strolls to the middle of my living room, looks right at me, and cleans his little tiny whiskers.
"You shouldn't be here," I cry. I don't want to hurt him, but he taunts me. He dances around my carefully laid gluetraps. He skillfully avoids the snaptraps. He shows uncharacteristic restraint for the poison the exterminator promised would put an end to him and his family.
And he has no respect for our relationship. I am a human. He is a mouse. Need I say more? "I own you, man. I mean, mouse."
I can hear him. I know he's there. And I will not rest until he dies. He is very, very cute and I hate him.
My weekend activities and what you missed because you aren't me...
Friday, March 28, 1997:
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Datebook |
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A Poem |
Excerpts From Her Best-Selling Self-Help Manual |
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Liberate yourself |
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I've been on this same temp job for weeks. I'm practically a full-time employee. I was starting to get comfortable. I knew that one day it would end, but I always thought I'd be the one to leave. That's why I was surprised when the office manager called me into her office, shut the door and fired me. Can you be fired from a temp job? I didn't think so. And I have to say that I'm confused because I was so fond of the paycheck every week. I liked the free long distance. And the Power Macs. I really enjoyed the way that I could get away with going in there and doing my own work. It's not my fault they caught on. Why should I be the one who gets punished? Well, I don't want to go. They can't make me go back to having to buy my own office supplies. I don't want casual Fridays to be every day of my week. I don't even know how much it costs to call California. I could get really screwed on my phone bill next month. I decided not to beg. They're not worth it. I'm just going to go find some other company's time and money to waste. Reproduce my art on some other company's Xerox copier. Take advantage of some other company's advantages. Then we'll see how they feel. That'll serve them right. To have to watch me use someone else the way that I used them.
I felt kind of depressed today. Being fired wasn't fun. And Amy wasn't around. She was with her boyfriend. Of course. So I thought about calling a friend from college who I hadn't talked to in a while, Cheryl. She's married. My married friends freak me out a little bit. They get married and all of a sudden their husbands are their best friends and they have all kinds of secrets that they can't tell you and you wouldn't understand because you're not married. Then when you call, they make you talk to their husbands when you have only called to talk to them. They start talking about having babies when you call to talk about yourself. They start trying to have babies. That's all they talk about. How much sex they have to have and when. Like I need to hear about that. And then, God forbid, it works and they get pregnant. That's all they talk about. They have the baby. That's all they talk about. Then, when you call, you have to talk to their husbands and their infant children and when you finally have them on the phone, alone, they have to go because their husbands just got home
