Today somebody took my chair. At work. I usually sit in this tall chair where mostly I read or tell people when to use treadmills, but when I got there today... it was gone.
"I've been dethroned," I thought to myself. Which struck me as really annoying, but also funny. Who steals a person's chair?
We finally have internet. Tonight a really friendly guy (let's call him Sal) came and fixed everything. Sal is the sort of guy that is perfectly suited for grandfatherhood. He would whistle and say, "Boy, not good," and then repeat it five more times to himself, a little quieter each time and maybe sung slightly the last time. He had me go down with him to the electrical box on our building--where all the veins of the building go, the inhuman, shiny power that runs everything--and when it was all opened up, he flashed the light and saw that our yellow and black wires weren't alone. Something like four other parasitic wires were attached, leaching away our DSL. He cut them off.
Now I'm wrapped in a blanket and listening to "99 Luftballoons" on repeat and thinking about how comfortable the German language sounds to me. In nine months I'll see my mom's side of the family again. I want to learn to communicate a few things in German other than "strawberry" and "milk" and "the little night music". I don't even like strawberries.
If I'm not actually saying anything, it's because I'm wholly drained. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I can think of other things my heart is like. A hand grenade. A stick of butter.
Next weekend I'm sitting home with a book and a cup of tea. I am not touching alcohol. Some things should change a little.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Hah. I love your description of Sal. I can picture him exactly.
It sounds like your chair was rather comfortable, which I imagine was the motivation for the theft.
Post a Comment