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Planning Board meetings are for the birds

Tonight I went to a Planning Board meeting. The meeting began at seven; we were the very last on the agenda. They got to us at 11:30. We were done by 11:40.

I read Naked, by David Sedaris. I like it! Man, thank goodness, right? I got up to page 210.

It's sort of a shame that I was in work so long today -- I stayed over an hour late at the office, preparing stuff for the meeting that we didn't end up using, and got about 30 minutes at home in which to make some pasta and watch Just Shoot Me -- but it wasn't too big a deal, it was only boring, not, like, painful or anything. And I wasn't uncomfortably hot nor was I uncomfortably cold, and I had a good book to read that made me chuckle at least once a chapter. And I was being paid. And that made it all okay. Brothers and sisters, this is why I will never (well, never say never, but you see what I'm saying here) work at a salaried job. Man, eff that! You want me to be here, fine, but you'd best give me something for my efforts. And they will! And so I am okay.

I guess I'm going to go to bed now. Read a little Chapterhouse Dune, you know, you know. I didn't bring it to the meeting because I didn't want to finish it in such unfriendly surroundings. Drift off to lovely sleep. Wake up tomorrow morning and DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN ha ha! Just kidding, I'm not working late tomorrow, not if I can help it.

Oh, so man, get this -- it won't get above 70 in my apartment. Why won't it go above 70? The baseboards seem . . . warm, but certainly not hot. It only gets nice and warm in here on the evenings when I cook and have people over. I feel silly calling maintenance for it, though. But I like it toasty!

Oh and so after the meeting was over, the dudes -- the client and the lawyer and the architect and the client's wife and Wojo and some dude whose name and title I didn't catch, and made no effort to catch, since I didn't really care (MAN my career is really going to take off with this kind of work ethic, I can feel it!) -- they chatted. It was almost midnight and we had been sitting on straight-backed chairs for four and a half hours and they were idly chatting. Man, don't you want to go back to your HOME? Are you too good for your HOME? I love my home! Man, my apartment, seriously, is my favorite place to be. Well, I guess my favorite place to be would be in my very own bed in the arms of [comically sexy celebrity] but you know, barring that.

Man, my posts totally suck these days. I liked it better when they were more like essays.

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