Tuesday Evening
25 September 2008 at 2:36 pm

I drop by the bar to drop off some labels my boss asked me to make for her. She is there, so we have a quick chat during which I thank her for her message (she had called over the weekend to let me know that she's worried about me and hopes I'm having a relaxing weekend) while we're folding the leopard-print fabric we use for a tablecloth leftover from jazz night on Sunday.

I drive downtown and receive the message from Kristie that she's hanging out at her boyfriend's house before work and so can't meet me at the stairs (Mesa Lane, 12 flights of ass-kicking we try to climb six times a few times a week). I head to my apartment (the one I'm housesitting, not to be confused with the studio, where I keep my clothes and sometimes refer to as the closet, or the house, which I am no longer legally entitled to but where I keep my washer and dryer, having no other place to hook them up, and therefore where I do my laundry and sometimes refer to it as the laundromat). My brother calls and I get my things together to head to the farmer's market while we discuss my mother. We decide that we're both manufacturing drama where there is none because we don't know how to relate to each other when we're not fixing each other, so we're making problems.

I'm scouting out the farmer's market, price comparing heirloom tomatoes and avocados, when that conversation ends. I buy heirloom tomatoes and basil for bruschetta and beefsteak tomatoes and avocados for my toast in the morning (try it with lemon pepper on whole wheat toast--heaven). I've spent $13 and have enough food for the rest of the week.

The weather changes quickly now that it's fall and the fog is rolling in, so the walk back in my new bcbgmaxazria sundress is brisk, but I find about a thousand things to laugh about, least of all the pink flower I picked just to be able to hold onto it during the 10 minute walk home.

I make myself a gin martini and set about tidying up the apartment. I wash the produce and get it ready for consumption, cutting up the lettuce, setting the avocados in the fridge or in a paper bag depending on the level of ripeness, checking the tomatoes for any signs of worms.

I fall asleep on the couch watching Firefly.

It's been a good day.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.