Ugh. I just filed a story last night (around 11:30 pm). Fingers crossed, it’ll run today. But, here’s what frustrates me. I have been dogging this damned thing for the better part of a month, and all I have to show for it is a 600-word article. Don’t get me wrong, the story needed 600 words to be told– no more, no less. So, it would stand to reason that that’s how long the article would be. It just irks me, only slightly, that a month’s effort can be captured in that small an article. I had to fight the urge to run “Screw Flanders” over and over– the way Homer Simpson did when he was a food critic.
Well, aside from my griping, it’s in, and I’m waiting. I hope this piece will go today. I really want to see some payout on all this work. I’m pretty happy with the results.
I guess I ought to head off to day job now. I have plenty on my plate there, too. I’m looking forward to doing (a lot of) writing today.
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I have a co-worker who gets pissed when I use some piece of mobile furniture by her desk. Generally, I use it to sit down when I talk to somebody else. This just infuriates her; it’s such good fun. Well, it’s 11:30 at night, and she isn’t here to stop me!!!
For the second night in a row, I’m working late. I’m at the day job office, and it’s night. I just looked out the window onto E 24th St. Usually, you see a handful of towncars on hand to pick up the various midnight oil-burners from my building and the one across the street. It’s one of the perks of working well into the night; if you live outside the city, the company’ll send you home in a towncar.
Here’s what really fucks me up. It’s a Friday night, and there are 17 towncars lined up. There may be more, but my line of sight was restricted. I just looked again, probably closer to 20. What does that mean? There are a hell of a lot of people working late tonight. Some of the cars are leaving, but more are coming. Poor bastards. Just like me.
I had a shitty day at work. Seriously. I was not in the fucking mood for anything. But, that was okay. I knew that at 3:45 PM my chariot would arrive to take me to the airport for a weekend of pure bliss.
Bliss, I found, is something to be earned.
As usual, I called Carmel Limo to take me to JFK airport. I always use Carmel. Generally, they’re pretty good. The driver I had today was awful. Carmel usually shows up annoyingly early. This guy was annoyingly late. Then, to avoid traffic, he lengthened the trip by taking me through Woodhaven and Jamaica, in Queens. It took forever. And, he was a shitty driver … by my standards, which are not high.
It’s all fine now. I’m on the balcony outside my absurdly beautiful and comfortable hotel room. But, the ride sucked.