2004-12-07 - 3:38 a.m.

After some awesome coffee from my new coffeemaker, in two and one half hours, yesterday, Sunday, my day off, I

Walked for 25 minutes from my apartment to the Cambridgeside Galleria, where I had a couple of extra seconds to burn watching birds fly by the Charles like fireworks are timed to go off, because they�re pretty, clean, seabirds (even the pidgeons) as opposed to city shit machines, and marveled, and felt good, and felt the daily morning existential crisis go away and I laughed at it, and then had to waste precious seconds watching stupid people try to figure out how to use an ATM (an ATM! It stopped being 1992 YEARS AGO!), arriving, and then remembering having to wait five minutes after arriving on time three times in a row, so getting a medium ice just milk at dunkie�s, and then I pushed it with one more butt outside, but a blonde townie chick with long pink fingernails asked me for an extra cigarette so I gave it to her and watched her woosh-whoosh pants as she walked away, but she gave it to her meathead boyfriend who then proceeded to walk around a LOT and say what the FUCK! several times and spit on the ground and smoke my cigarette, which wasn�t fun even though I was looking away from them, and I then got my hair cut by mopey Wisteria, who�se sole comment to me was you didn�t wait so long this time (and she got a very good tip), and then I FOUND and bought ribbon for the Roommate at the CVS there as well as a Glade Thomas Kincade Painter Of Light Gingerbread Spice Scented Candle, because it was tacky and because I�ve said so often that I HATE Thomas Kincade Painter of Light, and even stubbed out a cigareatte years ago on a graphic reproduction of Thomas Kincade Painter of Light�s graphically reproduced eye (on a poster outside of the Thomas Kincade Painter of Light gallery on Newbury St.), and also because I wanted to rip off Marty�s good idea of having a scented candle going in the bathroom at a party (thanks, Marty!). I also went to the Apple store to get Klean and Klear wipes but I had to wait for the stock guy to bring them out, and in the meantime in the back corner of that busy store I picked up and instantly coveted a firewire interface for recording, and here I am plugging in through USB with a converter enabling the use of my standard phantom-powered tube pre-amp when I could be doing it ALL (or most of it) digital and using SOFTWARE to control my levels AHEAD OF TIME so I know what it�s going to sound like before I play it. ($400. I put it back. It�s NEW GUITAR, THEN other stuff. I can make do. But it�ll be a challenge to do it now.)

Then I walked back to Lechmere because I knew I could get on ANY bus and get a free quick lift to Target faster than I could walk there, on the bus with my Combo Pass and enjoying the fifteen minutes of daylight I burned to get there, or ten percent of the daylight I�d be out of the apartment for.

At Target, I got a new, ultimate, shower caddy. I LOVE this thing. I also got a fire extingusher (knock wood), a set of tacks, and two over-the-door hooks. Once outside, I put the Apple bag that I had put into the CVS bag into the big Target bag I left Target with. Tar-jay.

I draped this over my shoulder like Santa might if he were a Target spokseman going to Burger King. I was in there for a few minutes. Surprisingly undisturbing, although there was pleanty of potential for it.

Out of my way down Somerville Ave to the Union Dunkie�s.

Actually, this is a good story.

I walked into Dunkie�s, and the only person ahead of me was a woman in her mid 50�s who was arguing with the cashier because the calendars weren�t in.

Every day I come in here, every day you tell me to come back tomorrow.

I�ve seen a little bit of everything (the not fun parts) in this Dunkie�s, so this started off as a pretty tame scenario, and I thought nothing of it.

Even when the calendar lady stormed off, although she hadn�t actually ordered anything. I imagined that she didn�t have a lot of money and wanted to give the calendars as Christmas gifts, which actually stands in retrospect as a pretty good theory, although someone pointed out later that she probably just wanted the coupons.

Just as she was storming off, a townie lady, early 30�s, walked in, bleached blonde hair with brunette roots, and a fake gold nose-ring. We smiled at each other the way people in line do when they�re sharing a someone�s freaking out but they�re harmless to us and I wonder what it was about experience. I got my coffee and a surprise tea for the Roommate, as well as the requisite tray, and as I was doing this, the six cute little old ladies who had been sitting at the tables in the back came up to chat with the cashier, who had left, and who had been replaced by the store manager, who had just gotten off of the phone to find out when the calendars were coming, and who assumed, temporarily, that the head old lady, who looked just like George Costanza�s mother, was the woman inquiring about the availability of the calendars.

And she said we will have them in next week.

And Mrs. Costanza said No, that was the bathroom lady who wanted the calendars. What a crazy one! Listen, dear, if you want our names and phone numbers, we can give them to you. Okay, goodbye, dear!

And the manager, still holding their attention, said It�s my job. I get shot here, somebody gets shot here, we get robbed, it�s my job to call the police. Somebody die in the bathroom, it�s my job.

To which Mrs. Costanza said Okay, you can have our names and numbers! Goodbye!, and then they all walked out to the parking lot. The eyebrow ring girl and I agreed that the old ladies were cute, and I followed them out to the parking lot, but as I left I saw the eyebrow ring girl ask about the events that had led to that conversation. I almost wanted to stay, but I didn�t.

Instead, I walked down to the Midnite convienence store, where I picked up some PTs and some Smartfood for the Roommate, and as I went to pay, I saw Eyebrow-ring Girl.

Ah! We meet again!, said I.

She told me that she had learned that the calendar lady had been in the bathroom for an hour. Now everything made sense to me.

I filled her in on the calendar part she had missed out on, and then said maybe she was waiting for the calendars to arrive.

And I waited.

And I waited.

And I waited.

And I waited.

And the lightbulb ticked on and her face lit up and she quickly and enthuiastically exclaimed YEAH, RIGHT?

I dunno. It�s not the best story in the world, but I think it�s a good one.

Then I walked up the hill. Again, all this happened in two-and-a-half hours. Or three-and-a-half. Yeah, probably that.

Still pretty good.

I got to watch the last 1:30 of the Pats game, I cracked my dad up on the phone, I got a good tip for calzones from my Ma, and then I banged thumbtacks into the underside of a round table, pinning a pretty piece of oilcloth I picked out onto it, and I did a damn good job.

I had a good chat with the Roommate, I played some guitar and sang, and that was my Sunday, my awesome day off.