It’s not all as bad as I make it out to be

I’m thankful for the New Deal Cafe in my neighborhood though. It’s only a couple of minutes from my house, and there is usually music playing on the other side of where I choose to sequester myself on a couch or nearby. So even if I don’t seem to have much of a life, I can vicariously enjoy the energy of others who do. The wireless is also free — not so at Starbucks, where I had to purchase a T-Online account this evening in order to enjoy that benefit there. You’d think with what they already charge for coffee, they’d be the ones to offer the free wifi. Not so, however.

The lady who owns the townhouse I’m renting in, Anne, is a sweetheart. She works two jobs as a nurse and a real estate agent, so I hardly ever see her. Today was maybe the first time I’d seen her on a weekend. “Where’ve you been?” she asked when I came down the carpeted stairs, my hair still wet from my shower. I told her I had been kind of down all morning, and she immediately told me to sit down and chat with her. We had a nice talk, and she told me I’m invited to her parents’ housewarming party tomorrow. So I might go to that. She keeps saying we’ll have to get together when our schedules coincide and have a nice meal and some drinks at a nearby restaurant. I said I’d like that.

We have another roommate moving in in a few days. She’s from Guatemala and seems like a really nice gal. I’m hoping we’ll be able to get together and hang out now and then.

I might just finally get a REAL bed tomorrow if her relative, Alex, can help me out. He’s a contractor, and right now is painting one of her houses. He said if he gets done in time, he’ll call me and we can head to IKEA to pick up the boxes and put the bed together, and if not tomorrow, then sometime on one of these evenings. I hope so. I am so tired of feeling like someone’s guest who’s long past her stay. Anne was so gracious to let me borrow her air bed in the first place, and I am thankful for her kindness; but it’s time to start sleeping like a real human being. I’d also like to get my favorite print, which is “The Green Violinist,” by Chagall, framed, so I can put it on the wall. I’ve had that print for about two years now, but I’ve always thought it costs too much to get it framed; and it just sat there in its cylindrical tube waiting for the day I felt like spending the money to get it framed and on the wall.

I bought that when I was with my boyfriend Jason, and we went to a Guggenheim exhibit in Vegas. I never knew I liked Chagall until I spotted that painting, and I loved the vibrant colors in it and his style of painting. I went weeks thinking about that print, and for some reason, I could never find it on any of those sites where you order posters and prints. But I finally searched up the Guggenheim site and there it was.

Also, this past week, three of the other public affairs gals from my shop invited me out, and we went to an Irish pub not far from where I work. That was a fun outing, but it was the work week, and they lived in VA, and I had to travel back toward Maryland before the metro ran its last train sometime after 11:00. We had to cut it kind of short, but it was still fun, and I found them to be the nicest and most down-to-earth people, seemingly just as passionate about their careers in this field as I am about mine. I felt I was among peers who had very similar feelings to my own. That was a nice eye-opener for me, that I was not alone in feeling that this job has always called me to its path.