Notes for Wednesday, July 14:
Had a chip in my front tooth fixed. Somehow, despite using a $150 electric toothbrush religiously, three times a day for the past two years, my teeth are still occasionally fucked up in weird ways. I suspect a cherry pit is to blame this time. My mother has taken to describing our dentist as either a highway robber or a con artist.
Cost to fix a chipped tooth in Boca Raton: $175. Had the passing thought, en route to Apple from the dentist: “I have such first-world problems.” Swarthmore is beginning to make me feel guilty about not being poor. Alarming.
Notes for Thursday, July 15:
Thought about getting a tattoo again. While sitting in the tub waiting for the water to heat up, the idea came to me: the outline of a t-shirt (seams, collar, etc), but not filled in; subtitle, “The Emperor’s New T-Shirt.” Spent at least 15 minutes of shower time thinking of the post hoc epistemological justification. No good answer yet, but I’m sure it’ll come to me.
Later: someone I told my idea to described it as “a good Halloween costume.” Initially positive towards his suggestion, but then realized that I wouldn’t be comfortable walking around Swarthmore shirtless on Halloween because of all my body hair. Once again have returned to the idea of getting my shoulders waxed. Not sure I’m ready to take that step, though.
Notes for Friday, July 16:
Got the safe sex lecture from the person administering my HIV test. (Negative again, though I’m starting to think that I’m showing the beginnings of a psychological disorder.) It’s like there’s a forum somewhere out there for homosexual registered nurses in too-tight Lacoste polo shirts to discuss how best to make their patients feel bad about their sexual choices, no matter how responsible they might be.
Shortly after making me feel horrible about myself with his litany of admonishments (“There’s still a risk of transmission for oral sex!”), the nurse saw my Apple jacket, took an iPad out of his desk drawer, and proceeded to ask me for technical support. What was I thinking, wearing that jacket outside of the store?
Notes for Saturday, July 17:
Spent the day hiding from customers and repairing computers, in an attempt to stay seated and rest my injured back. Went fantastically well, until a rogue suction cup caused me to smash the glass panel of a 27-inch iMac in a pretty spectacular way. Oops.
Later: realized I may have advised my longest-standing friend to break up with her boyfriend of a year and a half, thereby proving that I learned absolutely nothing from that really boring episode of Sex and the City where Carrie told someone to leave her abusive husband. Potentially projecting my own lack of closure from my former relationship; or, put another way: misery loves company?
Increasingly unsettled by not having gotten over the ex yet. Was told, by another ex who recently made his way back into my life, that, “You never really get over anyone; you just get under someone else.” (He, incidentally, has been telling me about the various men he’s going on dates with lately, which, entirely inexplicably, has made me cranky.) On the way home from work, sang along to “Fuck the Pain Away” by Peaches. Came home and ate dried mangoes and reread Harry Potter. So it goes.