Let’s get something straight. Unless you get a call at 3 am in the middle of the night, from a middle-aged coroner named Hans whose only English is the phrase “your friend? Zey are dead” followed by information on how/where to pick up my remains, unless all of that, this “blog” will be updated for each day. Will that mean I sometimes get to it after midnight? Obviously. And if I’m getting to it in the a.m. hours anyway, what difference does it make if I do it the next morning while you’re still asleep in your cute little student-loan-crisis jammies, under your cute little only-14-days-off-per-year sheets? Don’t ever doubt me again.
My first Friday as a full-time working man on this side of the world. And let me tell you: day started rough, boys. Call it an argument, call it a lovers’ spat, call it whatever you want. I call it an extension of the residual anger I carried in my heart from last night, and that damned dishwasher. So yeah, I got a little testy, a little grumpy even. Put simply, I was eminently difficult to be around, and did not appreciate the tone with which I was confronted about how I dumped a pile of dishwasher-soaked towels on our balcony to steep overnight. The point is beyond fair, but boy did I not receive it kindly.
All is made up and reconciled, of course, and I was able to snap a photo of some snow on the ground before it melted an hour later. The church pictured above sits atop an ancient Roman theatre now used to host middle-school productions of “Shrekk: Der Musikal”, and experimental slam poetry sessions. When Mainz was predicted in enlightenment-times to be the “New Rome” of Western Europe, dignitaries of the time certainly must have seen the amazing future we now find ourselves in.
Got off work early, had a beer with some of the co-workers and played some rocket league, and slithered my way home. The only scary thing about today is that I’ve already begun narrating in my head the events around me, like in that Will Ferrell movie. Even as my significant other pleaded, nay, bellowed about how I could possibly think it was a good idea to leave rottingly soaked food towels on our balcony to freeze and solidify, I narrated this very sentence I am typing to you now. It’s only been a week of this. One wonders if this is how psychosis begins.
See you tomorrow.
Nick
P.S. the ‘towel fight’ was like 10 minutes of tension after a small creative disagreement. Let me exaggerate on my own blog
Nick Denardi 