I lost a David Sedaris book, and it’s causing quite a bit of consternation.
(Does something cause consternation or give consternation? Next week I start a new job as a Technical Writer — eeeeek! — and these small issues of grammar have become irrationally important to me. I’m even including “(sp)” in my instant messages to indicate that while I can’t spell things correctly, at least I KNOW it’s misspelled.. And if I learned anything from my childhood, it’s that knowing is half the battle.)
Anyway, I was coincidentally shopping for books online a couple of months ago and noticed that the latest David Sedaris was coming out soon so I pre-ordered it. It arrived about a week later along with a couple of graphic novels, and I set it aside for the moment. See, if I’m really enjoying a book I tend to devour it as much as read it. I can’t stop, I take it with me everywhere, I won’t even sleep or eat if I can avoid it until the whole thing is done. I didn’t have time to really get into it, so I put the book down somewhere.
Cut to today. It’s a long weekend, and it’s time. I go to the main bookshelf, and… nothing. It’s not on the second bookshelf, or the third. The book is gone, and it’s driving me to distraction. I have lost keys, purses, shoes, retainers, scarves, envelopes full of cash, cats, best friends, boyfriends, and once even a roast chicken, but never a book. It is somewhere now in my apartment, mocking me silently from behind the couch or where ever. I will find you, David Sedaris book. You will be read.
Friday was my last day at my old job. I finally took the advice I’ve given everyone else over the years and found a new job while still holding down the old one. I was hoping to leave early yesterday, but I was asked to stick around until 4pm for some ‘goodbye event’.
At about 3:45pm my boss came up to me, holding a card. “I just got a call, and I have to go,” he said. “We were going to give you a little goodbye ceremony, but if I can’t be here I don’t want to do it. Are you done now? Let’s go. Oh, and only half the office signed your card.” He then handed me the card, a bucket of flowers, and escorted me to the door.
And so I hung out in the parking lot with my flowers and half-signed card for about 45 minutes until my ride home arrived. My last job lived as it died: half-assed and kind of weird. I found it all very heartening, to be honest. It was a downright poetic ending.
I think I promised some links at some point:
Cool Mini or Not?: One of my friends is really into painting those Warhammer 40k figures (or, as we call them, “tiny mans”). I admit I started out being rather mystified by this behavior, but after painting one myself for fun I realized it’s just another creative outlet, albeit one with plague demons and chainsaw hands. I think of it as Boy Embroidery, and I think it’s nice to see guys doing crafts too. Plus, this model of 40k’s Saint Celestine made me suddenly appreciate the existence of cloak cherubs. Cloak cherubs! Man, I could use a couple of those. I don’t even have a cloak, but if I obtained some cherubs you can be damned sure I’d get a really big shiny one.
Gnomes are over. Get a Garden Zombie. (Thanks for the link, person who knows who you are!)