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March 02, 2000
I'm sick, sleepy, and all pissed off at Barry White.
I thought staying home today would be a good idea. I figured I'd sleep a lot, catch up on some reading, watch cheesy daytime talk shows, and let the germs run their course.
Ha.
At 7:30, my landlord arrived to do work in the basement. He's building some sort of mystery room down there -- he says it's just a workroom, but it has a kitchenette, a bathroom, windows... looks like a basement apartment to me. To his credit, nobody is usually home after 7 o'clock on weekedays. He had no idea I was trying to sleep.
I staggered out of bed and put a cup of coffee in the microwave. Push the buttons, hit start... "whirrrrr...POP!" Dead microwave. Again. Third time in three months. Fuck.
I spent the next four hours arguing with various people in various Sears offices, trying to get the micrwaved replaced. I kept getting transferred to some guy named Reuben, who kept telling me "Sorry, can't help you." Click.
Finally I got connected to Purcell, who sounded just exactly like Barry White. I was briefly cheered up by the mental image of Barry White talking to me about my microwave... until he told me he didn't believe that I wasn't breaking the microwave on purpose, and there was nothing he could do for me. I asked to speak to a supervisor, and he said no. No? "They're very busy people, and they aren't going to drop everything to talk to you." Barry White, being rude??
I hung up, tried some primal scream therapy, and then got a call from Barry White's boss, who told me how I could very easily get my poor lemon of a microwave fixed. I just have to bum a ride to Burlington, MA. Sigh.
I'd have gotten more rest at work.
I'm just finishing reading 'Tis, by Frank McCourt. Good book, very engaging... but if he refers to hbis eyes as "piss holes in the snow" ONE more time, I think I'll throw the book out the window. I was enjoying the book up until the last chapter, when McCourt's waffling about what he wanted to do with his life started to grate on me. He suffered a great deal, true... but once he's gotten a degree, gotten a job, married the girl of his dreams, and his family has been moved from poverty in Ireland to contentment in New York, you'd think he'd be happy. Nope. He can't decide whether he wants what he has, or (apparently) if he'd rather be a drunk like his father. Hmmm. I'm almost finished with it now -- only about fifty pages to go. I rarely leave a book without finishing it, so I'll get through it. I think I would like it a lot better if it had ended a chapter or two ago.
After this book, I have Motherless Brooklyn and Girl, Interrupted. I didn't see the movie version of Girl, Interrupted -- I almost always prefer the book. Motherless Brooklyn centers on a detective with Tourette's Syndrome. That's all I know -- plus I read a few pages over somebody's shoulder on the subway, (yes, that's really annoying. I can't help myself.) and it looked good. So now I think I'll make some tea and go finish 'Tis.
Posted by Mary Ellen at March 2, 2000 11:41 AM