It is sunny and warm in Boston. I rode in to work with a fair amount of people, about two-thirds guys. All of them looked like they were over thirty but I think most people do against that dreary MBTA lighting. My fellow commuters minus five were white, but it was the kind of "diverse white" I've come to associate with urban-ish areas ever since I found out that white people look the same in places like central Pennsylvania and upstate New York. I had to wear a sweater. I ate toast. The "cool shoes" go with the "cool purse" and I'm eating Ramen for lunch. I feel vaguely guilty because the temps we hired are all at least twelve years older than me and kind of obviously out of a job. And vaguely bummed because it's Tuesday.
I'm trying to predict what I'll forget about when I'm on vacation for two+ months. Will I have cool shoes? Will I remember that it's Tuesday? The things that puncuate the time these days are going in the trusty old Tempo for home in a couple weeks--goodbye, beautiful bag. Pretty much everything I'm used to being around is going to be reversed: no more cars full of sullen young professionals, the weather will certainly not require a sweater. I'll be the one out of a job and looking for directions and wondering where the coffee is.
Finally!
I'm trying to predict what I'll forget about when I'm on vacation for two+ months. Will I have cool shoes? Will I remember that it's Tuesday? The things that puncuate the time these days are going in the trusty old Tempo for home in a couple weeks--goodbye, beautiful bag. Pretty much everything I'm used to being around is going to be reversed: no more cars full of sullen young professionals, the weather will certainly not require a sweater. I'll be the one out of a job and looking for directions and wondering where the coffee is.
Finally!
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