Stolen

Stolen
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

They're never giving these puppies back.

Waiting for the building maintenance man to come so that he can light the oven's pilot light. It's been out for a few months, and I didn't think anything of it. My father took a different tack. He mentioned the "constant trickle of gas" and "places blowing up", and that got me moving. These are things I knew, but didn't think too deeply about until I realized that I'll soon be closing my windows. A + B = C. So I talked to the management office yesterday. Hopefully this dude actually comes. They don't have the best record when it comes to that stuff.

Audition this evening for a one-act. It'd be nice to get it. I'm not being facetious to hide my excitement or anything. It takes a lot of energy to exist here, and it takes a lot of energy to get excited about things, especially things that 90% of the time do not go the way you'd like them to go, so I'm choosing my battles. It'd be nice, but I'm not counting on anything.

I stumbled on The Simple Woman's blog and magazine and I think I'm in love. Despite my dry humor, I'm a romantic. A cynical romantic, if you will, if I may. I used my fountain pen and leather journal to complete a "Daybook" entry, and I could feel all the churny bits inside settling into a nice, lazy pattern of movement. I smiled and danced to my iTunes playlist. I used my fountain pen for the first time in months! When I leave this city, I'm finding myself a farmhouse.

Biceps are sore from catering last night. The event was at one of the catering co's exclusive spots: Jazz at Lincoln Center. Sanit, the area where we drop dirty things, was on the 6th floor. The place where the people got rid of their dirty things was on the 5th floor. We aren't allowed to use the elevators. Stairs ahoy! My butt hurts.