February 24, 2006

So This Is What Daylight Looks Like

Today I met the Mister and one of his co-workers for lunch (mmmm.... Mexican... mmmbbblllaII'm so full...) Since I work at home and I usually eat lunch here, too (and my boss makes me feel guily if I leave my computer for ONE MINUTE), I don't usually go outside during the day on weekdays. Is that not pathetic? I didn't even realize it until today, when I was driving to the restaurant and the traffic was all crazy - not at all what I'm used to when I drive around my neigborhood at night and on the weekends.

I thought this at-home gig would be perfect for me, but I wonder if it's healthy, really. Since we're newbies to the area and don't really have friends in close proximity, I have NO face-to-face contact with anyone other than Mr. Meta and the cats during the week. On the weekends we venture into the Big City to see our friends who don't have to live in the pathetic 'burbs, but Monday through Friday this is IT...and I have no means of expanding my social circle other than to hang out in the parking garage or mailbox area of my building waiting to talk to random people who live here, which seems like a bad idea, because in my experience, the people here are not too friendly.

I've always been a misanthrope, and I loved the idea of being by myself all day without having to listen to my co-workers extoll the virtues of the latest Vin Diesel movie or their favorite Top-40 "music." It is nice to have my own space, I guess, but it's like I'm still getting all the craptastic people stuff (passive-aggressive email messages; condescending phone calls; doing my work AND my boss's work while she tells me I have it sooo easy being at home) without the good stuff I didn't realize I had and liked (juicy office gossip; making mental fun of co-workers' fuglified clothes; spending the day playing Encyclopedia Brown, trying to figure out whose shoes I saw in the bathroom stall next to me - the ones on the feet of the woman who DID NOT WASH HER HANDS; meeting convicted felons at the bus stop and realizing they're better people than my co-workers; getting hit on by a guy with no teeth at Dunkin' Donuts; receiving a "Thank You" card from a guy with alopecia who said he wanted to thank me for being "an attractive addition to downtown"; hearing a twelve-year-old kid on the bus talk about how he was going to buy his dad porn for Christmas).

Maybe I should look for an office job just so I have some stories to tell. That would involve buying new clothes, though, which I am NOT up for.

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metanephros at 4:04 pm

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