2002-05-31

My Weekend
Early evening on Friday, walking down Seventh Avenue in Park Slope. I had very little money and decided one slice of pizza would be my dinner. I walked to the very far end of the Slope, aiming for a certain place, passing at least 4 other pizza-joints. The one I wanted was closed. Not just because it was closed for the day, but closed as in a "for rent" sign on the riot gate. I was mildly hungry and mildly hot, terribly tired. I bought a soda and walked toward the nearest bus stop.

There was a medium dog sitting on the steps to a row house. The little front "yard" was fenced in. I click my tongue and call out to the pooch in a dog-friendly tone. He perks his ears. I continue cooing at him. He suddenly barks, I jump, spill a great deal of soda all over my brown and tan stripped shirt. It's obvious that I've spilled something on myself.

Saturday morning, my new roommate is supposed to come by and accept a delivery. I decided that I can do laundry, get a birthday card and pantihose before I need to return to the house. After contemplating if the $3.29 pantihose will really hold up better than the $2.39 pantihose, which will be more comfortable and so forth and eventually just getting the cheaper pair, I realize I am late. I am late. It makes me feel stressed.

My landlord does not have the lease ready. She says she will get it for us. She also tells us we can move upstairs around June 15. I just painted a room thinking my new roommate would be living in it for at least two months. I would have told him to suck it up in the orange for two weeks, if I had known when we were supposed to move upstairs two days before. I quickly get ready for dinner, deciding in the end to not even bother with the pantihose. This is a decision I regret later in the evening when my bare legs make me very chilly despite the glasses of wine.

I've been saving empty boxes of cigarettes. Because at the Village Smoke Shop in New Jersey, you can turn in 4 empty boxes for 1 full box. This seems worth-while now that cigarettes are $500/pack. I had 2 empty packs saved. I finished a pack while walking around Chinatown/Little Italy. I mindlessly flung the empty pack into a dumpster, watching it fly through the air after I released it, wanthing it to return to my hands like a boomerang. I just threw away 5 potentially free cigarettes.

On the train ride out to New Jersey, there were 7 people sitting in the middle of the car. There was a child with these people of about 7 or 8 years old. They were entertaining the child playing "I Spy." They were chatting about this and that. I was reading, the older lady across the aisle was sleeping (or dead), the woman with long brown and gray hair in front of me was knitting socks.

I decide not to crochet because I think that's too much crafting going on in public transportation. The woman who had been knitting gets off a few stops before I need to. Instead of walking past me to the door clearly closer, she walks up the train car, past the 7 people. She tells them "maybe next time you can use your indoor voices." One of them asks her to repeat herself, and she says in again. They are stunned into silence. They weren't loud, obnoxious or interferring. Many people were sleeping. I laugh to myself and think this lady is completely wacky.

One of them shouts, "bye hun" when the train comes to a stop at the station. I think the "hun" is a bit patronizing and rude. Another suggests she has PMS. I no longer feel sympathy for these people who were unfairly yelled at by a women of questionable sanity.

Marie and I go to Target. She decides she needs a whole bunch of stuff (see her shopping list), I force her to buy things that will make her life simpler, less complicated. I am anti-clutter woman who believes that disorganized people can easily become organized. I buy light bulbs because they are on sale and I think good lighting is essential. Marie was getting checked out by the time I've paid up. The cashier does something or another which requires two manager-esque types who are progressively younger than her is to come over to offer a solution. After 10 minutes, it's obvious that the only thing she can do is re-enter all the numbers again. She does, the amount comes up different than the first. We find her mistake, she deletes the double-entry. The register gives her trouble with the check. We've been standing so long that Marie has already taken a hair tie out of her bag, I'm throughly bored and the lady behind Marie is line is completely pissed.

This lady behind Marie on-line is with two teenaged girls around 12 to 14. One is seriously walking away, on her cell phone. I want to tell the girl that this is indeed Target and she should know it looks cheap. Talking on cell phones in public should be reserved to outdoor seating at the Blue Water Grill not Target on Rte. 22 in Union, NJ. The lady is buying 4 pillows and assorted other goods. When she realizes that our cashier has to re-enter each number, she gets agitated and decided she needs to get on another line. Then she gets hyper-pissed when she realizes she has put too many things on the conveyor belt to make it worth it to move. The two teenaged children are no where to be found to help.

The cashier is finally able to get the new receipt equally to the orginal. The register accepts the check and begins printing on it. It seems as if we are actually ready to leave. But Marie's check is rejected. The woman behind her on line re-directs her anger from the cashier to Marie. In this lady's mind, it is not the stupid, homely cashier that is holding her up but a dumb young kid who tries to write a bad check. Marie's check is rejected because the network Target uses decides Marie does not have sufficient check-writing history or credit. How one gets it to begin with is a mystery. Marie however, technically, stole a hair-tie. If she wanted hair-ties, I would have bought her a pack.

Finally back in Manhattan, I attempt to buy a monthly Metrocard at 14th Street. I use Transit checks, given to me on the 15th of every month. I apparently can saveup to $400/year on taxes by getting my monthly transportation money taken out of my paycheck before taxes. I have a feeling I only save $4/year. These Transit cheques require that I purchase my Metrocard at a booth. The 14th street computer is not working. I walk down to West 4th Street, where, again the computer is not working. I walk to the southern booth of the West 4th Street station. I ask the guy at the booth if he knows where there is a working computer. He explains they must cash-out nightly. I sympathize and understand but exaplin that I only have $3 and if I buy 1 token, I won't be able to buy my monthly pass in the morning. He lets me through the gates, gives me a free ride. I thank him and feel as if this is the biggest break I've gotten from the world in days.

I manage to shut off my alarm clock which I have adjusted to a much earlier time in hopes of ever getting to work at 9 am. I only meants to hit snooze. I wake at 9:29. I am pissed that I am wasting a "ooops I over-slept" morning on an AM without a minor hangover. I completely have to adjust my planned outfit since I must rush out of the house. The subway does not come for 20 minutes.

I have a pretty busy and potentially exciting week. I have 2 sporting events, dancing with friends, and a new roommate offically moving in. I am hoping that the week changes, that events small but annoying just stop happening. At least for a few hours.