So on Friday last week it’s some guy’s last day at work and a leaving card is going round and this time I write (in all capitals, in square geometrical handwriting, in the centre of the card):
Tuesday night, 3am, lying in bed making a list of the things I’ll miss about [HIS NAME]. At number 2: Seeing you, standing in the kitchen, clutching a bottle of water, looking at my direction but way past me, lost in a thought that I’ll never know, a thought I suspect I’m not worthy of knowing anyway.
I have lifted part of this from something I wrote on this blog recently (you may recognize the last sentence), but a) nobody knows that, b) it sounds sufficiently crazy, c) I can’t come up with completely new things even for leaving cards of colleagues I hardly know, my inspiration has its limits.
On Monday after work (4 out of 10) and the gym (8 out of 10) I get on the tube to go and visit Scott, who’s still sick. There is nothing that unsettles me more than mid-week activities that delay me from getting home when I have to work the next day. Well, in fact there are many things that unsettle me equally/more, but for the purpose of this story I will pretend there aren’t.
There are four stops with no changes on the tube between my home and my work/gym, so it takes approximately 10 minutes of traveling to get there. The fact that on this Monday night I decide to travel to the edge of Zone 2, across 15 stops WITH a change, so selflessly, a silent martyr, a prisoner of Scott’s love, an altruistic saint, indicates what a great boyfriend I am. The fact that I’ve decided to write a post about it and moan incessantly over 1,000 words or so, indicates that I’m not.
- By the fourth stop, I am starting to wonder whether we’re getting there yet
- By the ninth stop, I have run out of crappy free newspapers to read
- By the tenth stop, my iPod battery is starting to run low
- On the thirteenth stop I have to change and while I’m standing there waiting for the next train on a platform with no proper countdown, I am starting to sweat, my breathing is short and my eyes are getting tearful. I am not making any of this up
By the time I get to Scott’s place I could have been home for 45 minutes and ironed my shirt, prepared my food, chosen socks and underwear, lined up my shoes and made my gym bag for the next day.
I moan at Scott a bit (because that’s what he really needs right now), have a protein shake, make him check whether the first episode of Gossip Girl is repeated on ITV2, and five minutes later I’m out the door and on my way home.
Finally, here are three subjects where you can take action / let me know what you think / interact:
Take action. If you want to see Andrews’ Boyfriend’s review of the weekend they spent in London / at my flat, read here.
Let me know what you think. Earlier this week I receive an email from the reader and that email says: “Hey LP, Have you thought about selling more stuff on ebay now that your site has taken off? M___”. And I says: “Why M___, what a great idea. What could I possibly sell on ebay that people are willing to bid for though? If anyone has any ideas, please let me know and I’ll consider putting it on ebay. Try to be semi-serious at least”
Interact. At work, Pam says: “Which reminds me – did I tell you that I really really loved that video of you reading to Lisa Loeb’s Stay? (LINK HERE). And I says to Pam: “I like that video too. Maybe I should do some more in similar settings”. And Pam says: “Nah, that would undermine it. But you could do other things, like:
1. making a chicken and cauliflower dish to Roxette
2. cleaning your bathroom to Pink Floyd
3. walking to work to Suede
And I says: “Definitely great ideas (apart from I don’t like Pink Floyd). I should film mundane everyday activities to ridiculous soundtracks”.
So if you can think of a mundane activity that you’d like to see, again, let me know and I’ll see what I can do. But I will choose the soundtrack thank you very much.