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June 29, 2000

Happiness is driving to work.

It costs too much and it's not worth the trouble, but for those few days a year when I'm in my own car rather than a subway car, the commute is bliss.


Happiness is getting complimented by someone whose work you admire.


Happiness is realizing on Thursday what a great week it's been already.


I've had a pretty happy day.


June 27, 2000

Confidential to Curious on Sixth Avenue: Hi there!


June 20, 2000

I opened the window.

And the bug -- a beautiful butterfly -- came through after all.

I like this butterfly. I couldn't be happier.


June 15, 2000

I have taken to omitting question marks in my instant messaging. Seems less intrusive, less nudgy, to ask things without asking.
: So what's up
: Any news on the job front
: What say you and I grab lunch later
Maybe it has something to do with my odd linguistic habit of tailing off the end of my spoken questions (four years in Lancaster, Pa., will do that to you). And when all is said and done, I'm probably still a nudge.


Some things are tough to figure out. If you leave the window open, sometimes the bug flies in, sometimes it doesn't. The decision I have to make is whether I should open the window or not.


June 14, 2000

"If I don't see you at the gym later, it's because I decided to clean my apartment and iron my clothes instead."

The abode still needs a good scrubbing, but I did iron, a notable occurrence due to its always/never nature, that is, I always say I'm going to iron my clothes but I never do. As a result, I have larger-than-necessary drycleaning bills and one navy blue shirt that I only wear once a month, whereupon I wash it myself, hang it in the closet, and neglect the wrinkled cotton for inordinate lengths of time.

My iron makes an odd cranking noise when it's filled with water. The sound is not unlike the noisemakers one swings on New Year's and Purim. When the imagination is humming it sounds like an ailing frog is steaming my clothes, and the frog is none too pleased about it.

Ironing should not have superseded going to the gym, but I _am_ wearing that navy blue shirt today.


June 12, 2000

If I posted everything here that came to my mind each day -- not _everything_ everything, but all the shareable, publishable, discussable thoughts -- I would have an extremely compelling web site.

You also wouldn't like me very much.


The men's room is on the way to the water cooler, so I made a pit stop on my way to get more water. Out with the old, in with the new, I suppose.

Somehow I managed to drop my (empty) water bottle on my way out of the restroom. It hit broadside and clanged around on the floor a bit. I grabbed it before it came to rest, in the vain hopes that my fast hands could negate their clumsiness from the moment before, which of course they couldn't.

Now I'm thirsty.


June 9, 2000



June 8, 2000

I was just handed a ticket to tonight's Stanley Cup finals game. Devils vs. Stars, Game 5.

I've been to three playoff games already (yes, I've been blessed by the sports ticket gods this spring) and I've seen the fancy ticket already. But I can't stop staring at it.

This is the Stanley Cup Finals! I will be there while my team has a chance to win it all. My whole day will be exhilarating.


June 7, 2000

I wish I saw Peter for more than the occasional sample sale.

Interesting, isn't it, how one needs excuses to see people. Some friends, depending on the relationship, one can hang out with for no reason:
"Whatcha doing tonight?"
"Just watching the ballgame, I guess."
"Want to hang?"
For the vast majority, though, one needs a reason to convene. This is probably a New York phenomenon (and heaven forbid I'm the only person it happens to, which makes this oddly confessional and mildly embarrassing):
"Whatcha doing tonight?"
"Not much, why?"
"Thought we'd hang, watch the ballgame or something."
"Nah, I'm just going to clean my bathtub and organize my computer table."
And then, of course, there's the danger of the better offer:
"We still on for tonight?"
"Well, I may have this work thing, but if not, I'll let you know."
For example, I like Peter, and I'm going shopping with him today since he and I have similar tastes in clothing and we're both comfortable enough with our heterosexuality to poke around racks full of Donna Karan fabrics and examine how we each look in assorted pieces of as-is sale items. I like hanging with Peter in general, really, and I wish I had more "excuses" to call him. We hardly ever get together even though we'd like to. And it's a shame.

Poor Peter is the subject of my rant, but he should take it as a compliment. Alas, he's not alone.


June 5, 2000

It was Friday, actually, but close enough.


I'm really enjoying all the golf I've been playing. I still stink, mind you, but I like everything about it -- the chance to spend a few hours outside, the cerebral effort, the coordination of mind and body. Plus it gives me an excuse to get out of the city almost every weekend, which, shlep aside, is not a bad thing on a beautiful spring weekend.


June 2, 2000

Numbness is a bad sign.


June 1, 2000

Happiness is hearing, "Alternate side of the street parking rules [pregnant pause] suspended today in all five boroughs," when I'm about to move my car.


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Copyright © 2000 David Wertheimer. All rights reserved.