a disintegrating day (lyn)

Get up early.  Start the day by returning some clothes I had gotten for Alexander that he didn’t like, and picking up a necklace that has been in repair for two months.  Spend most of the afternoon doing census work, but with beautiful 70-degree weather, most people are not home.  It’s a pretty uneventful day, until early evening, when things start to fall apart. 

#1:  Every Picture Tells a Story

I post some photos of the new skinny me on Facebook.  I get some nice responses.  But one person, someone I haven’t seen since our kids were about two and she moved out of the city, writes, "Wow, you are still in the same apartment."  Not,  "You haven’t changed in 15 years."  

#2 New Census Requirements

I go to Starbucks around six to turn in the day’s timesheet.  Cody, my by-the-book uber-leader, informs me of two new census rules:

·    If no one is home, leave a Notification of Visit form with my name and phone number on it.  Really!  This way, in case I have doubts of my popularity, I can now have 70 plus strangers calling me at home each day.

·    It is difficult to even get into a non-doorman building to leave the forms noted above.  So the second rule is, “Start ringing bells randomly until someone buzzes you into the building.”  You know, like burglars do.

#3:  Bad Dinner

I plan to meet my friend Carol at 6:45 to take a subway downtown to see a play at a small off-Broadway theater.  I opt out of dinner as my financial situation is scaring me into cheap at-home meals.   I quickly eat a tuna sandwich on Arnold thins, with 14 Pringle-lights, and a pickle.  Pretty low on the nutritional scale, I would think.

#4:  Miss the Play

Carol and I get stuck in the subway station waiting for a train that never arrives (apparently there was a fire and “two trains were taken out.”)  While I stand on the platform looking for the bright lights of an approaching subway car, Carol sits on a bench asleep.  Finally, when it becomes clear that no train is ever going to arrive, I wake Carol, call the theater, and ask to reschedule.

#5:  Make a Movie

I am able to substitute the play for a movie (Please Give).  Since I’ve been seeing so many screenings, I must have missed the price increase.  Now it’s $13 to see a movie-almost an hour’s work as an enumerator.


But as I reflect on the day, I recognize that:

1. Many more people commented on my new shape than on my old apartment.
2. I am earning money, even if it's not much.
3. I ate badly today, so tomorrow I’ll eat better.
4. I missed a play I wasn't in the mood to see; my friend was relieved.
5. I saw a movie I ended up liking.

And tonight,  Alex Baldwin is hosting SNL.  Life is good.