Day 2, Part 1

I get to work.

Someone's making coffee.

For a year: THEY'RE ALL LOCAL OLDER WOMEN! THEY HAVE THEIR CLIQUE! NO ONE WILL SPEAK TO ME!

But she's always tried.

Something like this:

"Good morning. How is your day?"

"Not bad. How are you?"

"Pretty good."

I can't remember exactly how I got to making her the centre of attention, but I got there.

"Oh, so you've travelled a bit. Whereabouts?"

"Greenland. Some places in the States. I want to go to New Zealand."

"Greenland??!!"

"Yeah. It was a student exchange. Amazing place. Great people. Really interesting culture. I loved it."

"Wow."

"What about you?"

I try to say enough. But not too much.

Then before she leaves: Well this is how I've lived. I do this. I have my family. I'm thankful for what I have. Every day is a new day.

Something like that.

I few drops of local, adult wisdom.

"I hope you have a good day."

"You too."

In the office. I have my backpack.

It contains my laptop if I have some time to write.

It contains the Qu'ran that **** sent me if I have time to read.

I'll get to that second part later.

Some YouTube videos. But not WatchMojo and Chess.

Dr Ramani.

Hmmm...

"Rock bottom." You only see it when you get there.

"Dysregulation, huh? Okay."

I need to get a new phone. I walk over. Closed. Too early. I go back. [The area superintendant is at the reception and I always wonder what she thinks of me. She doesn't usually look up but this time she does. A faint smile. But they're used to me coming and going as I please. I have barely any work, but still anywhere else I would probably be fired by now. Not here.]

The phone place is near my therapist. I calculate. I keep an eye on the time. Okay, if I leave now, I should be able to go to the phone store and then to my appointment.

I get to the phone store. Some stuff. Politely. I look at the clock. Something clicks.

OH SHIT! I'M ALMOST HALF AN HOUR LATE!

"Ummm... actually I'll come back later."

I rush over.

"You're never late. I was getting worried."

"Yeah. I don't know why but for some reason I calculated our appointment to be at 11:30."

"Hmmm. So... I got your messages. Where do we begin?"

Good question. A million thoughts.

We talk. Time passes.

Then: "Let's see if I can ask my colleagues for some more time." [Because we end at lunch.]

We talk more.

"Okay, we gotta wrap up."

I want to finish. I have to say it though we're going over.

"There's this book. Talking With Sartre. This guy interviewed Jean-Paul Sartre over the years and asks him all these questions. And the only thing I remember about is when he says that life is all about projects. And I finally have a project."

"Okay. Just make sure you don't get carried away."

Back to the office for lunch. Then... gotta get my phone. I walk over and I'm almost there when an older lady calls out to me.

"Hey, could you help me carry this water bottle from my truck?"

"Sure, no problem."

"I'm getting older and it's not so easy anymore."

"Yeah. No problem."

I pick it up and cross the street into the office. "Here, this is how you set it up."

Then it starts.

"So, what brings you to ****? Are you just visiting?"

"No. I've been here for about eighteen months. I work for the [regional] Government."

Introductions. I tell her my name. A few tidbits.

"And your name is?"

"S. N***. I used to be Executive Director for this region and the one to the south. Now I work for the regional parliament member."

"N***. I did some project management on the highway. I read a bit about it. D*** was it? He was mayor. Also the leader of the local hunters group. His rivalry with M***."

"D***. Yeah. M***. Yeah."

"And the class action lawsuit."

"J*** and D***. Yeah."

Another guy comes in.

"Hi. My name is ****. I'm the regional parliament member. Nice to meet you."

Some other stuff.

"Drop by any time, you're always welcome."

TWELVE FUCKING MONTHS.

Sometimes you gotta learn the hard way or you never learn at all.

Stupid white boy.