Monday, Monday...

no, wait. Tuesday. it's Tuesday.

this weekend was just fantastic. but why, WHY, pray tell, did it have to end?

yesterday was another really nice day without office, although it started off poorly when I had some complications in my laundry room. I'd gone down just after 9am to throw in my 2 loads of clothes into the 2 machines that reside in the cavern that is my apartment's laundry room. both washers were full and running. so I went back upstairs and talked to my family on the phone for an hour or two while sweeping all the floors in my house (part of my original plan for the morning). I wanted to get some cleaning and laundry done before I was going to meet April downtown in the afternoon.

after I got off the phone around 11, I went back down to the laundry room, there was a guy taking clothes out of the dryer. both washers were shut, but not running, and the guy mentioned they were full, but they were his clothes and he'd be taking them out in just a minute. so I waited, and just then he asked me if I'd been the person who had taken his clothes out of the dryer a few weeks ago and left them folded on top of the machine. I answered that, yes, that was probably my doing, since I did that once. I always feel bad taking people's clothes out, so I figure that hastily folding them makes up for it. he thanked me profusely and then threw his clothes in the dryers, mentioning something about how they never quite get his clothes dry and that he'd probably have to put some of them in for a second time. I'd never had that problem, so I just grunted something about only needing one dryer anyway, and he left to go back upstairs.

I returned to my apartment to start mopping the floors and gave the guy a full hour to get his dry clothes from the laundry room (the dryers take 45 minutes) because I didn't feel like having another awkward "thanks for folding my clothes" conversation with him. when I went back down at noon, the dryers were shut, not running, and his clothes were still inside. I thought, "motherfucker is trying to get me to fold his clothes again!" so I started slowly separating my clothes into "lay flat to dry" and "tumble dry" piles. the guy came back down while I was doing this, opened the first machine, put his hand in, and said, "oop, this one's still wet..." he opened the second machine, put his hand in, and said, "oh, this one's still wet too...I'm going to have to run them again...sorry." all I could say was "oh." then he felt around in his pockets and said to me, "you wouldn't happen to have any spare quarters, would you?" shocked, I said, "I only have a dollar," and he ran back upstairs to get more change. I couldn't believe it. what an asshole! I fucking folded his clothes for him once and he has the cajones to take two turns in a row at the dryers?! and then ask me for spare quarters?! on Memorial Day?! ugh. if I ever see him again, I'll spit in his face and then jog away lightly, pumping my fists in the air.

and also, if you know the dryers aren't going to dry your clothes fully, why do you 1) overstuff them; and 2) use the Perm Press setting?!? put it on Normal, genius! grrrr.

I ended up air-drying all of my clothes rather than wait around another hour for that nudnik.

enough of that nastiness.

the rest yesterday was wonderful. April and I had a nice dinner at the place where she used to wait tables and Marisa met up with us there. we haven't seen her in at least a month and a half, so that was nice. after eating, we went back to my apartment and I called Jim to come out for a drink with us, as he'd called me in the middle of dinner to see what we were up to. so we all went to a neighborhood bar and started downing pitchers of beer like it was water. Pasquale came to pick up Marisa after about an hour, so Jim and April and I decided to play a drinking game. I'm usually very good at these sorts of things, but April picked a game I'd never played before. it turned out to be the one game I really couldn't play well until I got really, really drunk from messing up all the time. so I continued to get really drunk because I was in denial over having to work today and I just wanted the weekend to last forever. my whining and wishing didn't work, however, and this morning I woke up with a nasty stomach and a woozy head. boo for work. BOOOO for the end of the weekend!

I did have a really weird but oddly enjoyable sex dream this morning, though. sex dreams. sometimes they involve a man showing off his 3-pronged knife before he tongues you silly. yep. sometimes they do.

oh good word, I'm salivating over the prospect of going to the Courtauld Institute in London for graduate school. silly me has just read their course offerings for postgraduate work and now I really, really want to go there. God damn my meager finances. holy shit, I must go. to be decided...