Road to Somewhere

Adam and I are relatively smart people, I promise. I mean, I’m an editor! I know how to properly use a semicolon! And I get paid for it and everything! Granted, this is one of those savant-like things that you can either do or you can’t, and I’m pretty sure it has little to do with intelligence, but given the fact that we left the lights on in our Honda this evening — in 20 degree weather — while we dined on chicken jalfrezi and raita, it’s the best I can come up with. You can probably deduce that this means that our car battery went kerplunk, leaving us with nothing more to do but stare at each other and wonder if we should just leave it there and walk home (totally an option, albeit not an attractive one) or beg someone for a jump.

We opted for abject pleading, and ended up getting a jump from a nice family who just moved here from Reading, Pennsylvania (What up, my fellow Pennsylvanians!) and driving around what is essentially a one-horse town for 20 minutes, before becoming so bored of passing the same Mobil station over and over and oh my God OVER AGAIN, only to sit in the driveway and stare at each other for a while while the battery charged.

Honestly? It beats sitting on the air mattress with no stuff and no cable — no TELEVISION, actually, for we clearly have cable Interwebs. Buuut, I think I have officially reached the end of the Internet. Send help, for I’ve seen it all. Oh, and if any of you feel like updating your blogs hourly, rest assured, I will read every last blasted entry in excruciating detail. I never realized how important stuff is until you don’t have any, and by “stuff” I mean a fresh pair of socks and maybe a sweater other than this brown hoodie that I’ve been growing on my arms for about a week. I cannot WAIT to have new clothes and clean socks and dishes! I WANT DISHES! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a homemade pickled carrot? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA?

Ahem. Forgive us, for we are losing our minds here on the air mattress. Our stuff has been delayed by a day and won’t arrive until Wednesday, so until then, iTunes is my sole form of entertainment. And you, of course.

I went to get some work done at a coffee shop today — the shop, I’m guessing, that will be my office, at least for the short term — and it was my first official day as a full-time freelance writer-slash-editor, and hell, I enjoyed it. I wonder how long it will be before I hear the hum of painful boredom and lack of social interaction, for I talked to precisely no one except for a few friends over IM. Well, and the barista.

The job situation here is … well, it’s SMALL, to put it politely, and for the moment, I can make more money with more intellectual stimulation via the world of freelancing than I would, say, as a dental assistant or a receptionist, of which there are jobs aplenty in the region. Writers and marketing types, not so much, but it’s day three, so what do I know? I’m keeping my eyes on it, but the last thing I feel like doing is giving up something I genuinely enjoy for the lone sake of getting out of the house, so hello, coffee shop, my new friend! How are you? I should also add that one of the many quirks of my little town, however stereotypical, is that patchouli (the cheap oil, not the refined fragrance I know and love) seems to be experiencing a revival of sorts, for I smelled it on MANY, MANY PEOPLE today, and beards seem to be some sort of compulsory rite of passage. I imagine they have to, for it’s so damn cold out there, and ski masks are terrifying, and indicate something will be happening at gunpoint in a matter of moments. Adam is pondering it, so he says, because apparently there are few opportunities to grow a beard without being mocked, and this is one of them. To which I reply that I may never kiss him — or do any of the things that kissing leads to, ahem — again, and is a beard really worth that?

He’s still deciding.

Which brings me, in a roundabout way, to the issue of getting out of the house. Well, maybe not getting out of the house so much — the coffee shop will do that for me — but getting out to a place to meet actual people outside of a workplace environment. Frankly, I get a little tired of meeting people at work anyway, for suddenly your world becomes entirely too entrenched in your place of employment and God, nothing is worse than doing something embarrassing, like farting or capping three of your teeth in saag paneer, and having to face the same people in a professional setting the following day. Friends forgive these things, but in the wrong work environment, forget it. You’ll be known as Farting Spinach Girl for the rest of your tenure, emphasis on the farting portion.

I’ve toyed with the idea of a Unitarian-Universalist organization and I will, I don’t know, take yoga or join a gym or something, but I’ve never been very good at joining things. So, we shall see. But hey, um, anyone ever joined anything and had it work out? Anyone a Unitarian-Universalist? (Forget a regular Jesus-y church. It’s not me, save for my deep admiration and envy for the Episcopalians and Jews, but even that is too great a leap for me for the time being.)

Also, on an unrelated note, I have a haircut tomorrow, and I’m TERRIFIED. What … what’s going to happen? WHERE IS SQUIGGY? I sense that I’m not exactly on the cutting edge of hair fashions here in the wilderness, so this should, ah, be exciting. Adam has advised me to buy some hats just in case things go horribly awry.

And with that, I’m going to stare at the air mattress for a while and maybe play some TyperShark. Yes, that’s precisely how desperate we are. WE HAVE NO STUFF. SEND SOCKS.

*Goldfrapp

37 comments March 3rd, 2008