Get to work. Start cancelling the building passes (there's enough here for a deck of playing cards) of those who've been laid off. Bill some invoices. Do some reading. Look at dresses I can't afford.
Then Dr. Lumberjack comes in looking like a goddamn reject from Newsies.
(Basically, like this except without the stupid rolled up pants.)
With the peacoat and the flat newsboy cap. And I don't know if this just confirms he's gay, or just fashion forward. This look IS in a lot of men's magazines. Ralph Lauren's fall collection was basically depression-era vests and tweed. I mean, I know straight guys who wear those caps.....two of them. Oh well. I mean, he's still gorgeous - it's just that my hope he's into ladies is dwindling. There are actually a lot of weird outfits going on at work today. And while I'm all for people having some fun on casual Friday, the lady wearing the pink polo shirt with the popped collar and pearls is freaking me out a bit. I feel like I should ask if she wants to get together and throw a lacrosse ball around on the quad sometime (which in reality would probably be quite fun, but would take the wind out of my snide sails).
Then the weirdness ball really got rolling - the messenger who likes me (for whom I do not reciprocate feelings at all) straight up asked what I was doing for Valentine's Day! I said I have a date (which is a slight twisting of the truth...it's a girlie date to the movies with a close friend who also happens to be single) but even though I've been really (rudely, but I don't know what else to do because he still doesn't get it) standoffish to him, he won't quit trying to chat me up every single day. It grinds my fucking gears. Every time he comes down the hallway, he clears his throat, or sighs loudly to get my attention. Enough, little boy. I know you're 21 and think you're hot shit and charming, but you're not. I know you're there. And I choose to keep focused on my work, thanks.
All this before 11am.
At least it's the weekend. Doesn't look like I'm getting fired (my company does layoffs on Friday, which certainly takes the TG out of TGIF) and I love snow, so that's good. I might have found a place to live (put in an application, still waiting), and I have my current apartment to myself. More and more I prefer being alone. Is it gracefully growing older and enjoying my own company, or a descent into Moliere-worthy misanthropy? Jury's still out.
Happy Snowday.
