Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Oh, it's winter.

I just got into the shower to find my conditioner frozen solid.

I admit defeat. It is officially too damn cold.

It's winter?

Eve spent today stomping around yelling, "THIS IS ILLEGAL." Now, whispering Eve can be heard through walls; bellowing Eve is a force of nature. I was secretely pleased with the amount of chaos she caused, though, as it gave me something to think about other than the cold. The heating system at work picks today of all days to die out.

We have a lot of windows, which normally is pretty great. There's nothing I like better on break than to just sit and look out over the water. However, windows are leaky, and with the heat on the fritz, the library pretty quickly equilibrated to the outside temperature. (Or something that felt like it.) No wind, though, so: sucky day but manageable with coats and coffee. (Although: 5 cups without thinking about it in as many hours + everyone else going at about the same rate = so much accomplished, and also a huge line-up at the bathroom.)

Tragically, though, I lost my mittens and hat on the subway and was forced to pick up new ones. The stores were, predictably, pretty picked over, so I ended up with a hat that makes me look more or less like a goofball. ("One size fits all": untrue.) It's got snowflakes and is fleecy and warm and actually I sort of love it and will probably wear it more than necessary.

Monday, February 5, 2007

SHAY-bahn

Michael Chabon is doing a Sunday serial in the Times Magazine called "Gentlemen of the Road". The first chapter is online as an .mp3 with Chabon narrating. I'm of two minds about authors reading their works aloud. (On tape, at least, rather than in a live reading.) Clearly, they're the authorities on what exactly it's supposted to sound like, but at the same time, sometimes voice actors and the like just read better. I adore Chabon's writing, but honestly, I'm sort of disappointed in his voice. Next time they put up an audio, I'm going to try listening before I read the passage to myself; maybe that way I won't have such a strong idea of what I think it sounds like.

At least I now know how officially to pronounce his name, though...

Cubby, sweet cubby

New job = awesome. Spy-style time clock aside, the actual job is pretty darn great. The work is actually what I strongly suspect I want to do with my life (which is a pleasant change), and I am enjoying it fully. The people are also pretty great so far, even Eve. Eve is old and says inappropriate things very loudly. My supervisor actually pulled me aside early on my first day to warn me about her. (“Mostly we all just wear headphones. It doesn’t stop her talking, but you can pretend like you don’t hear her and don’t have to respond.”)

Plus, I have a librarian date-stamper all of my own. And a cubby! My cubby has a shelf. This is exciting because I have not been working long enough to be depressed by cubicles and their trappings.

Thursday, February 1, 2007

Shh.

Walking out of the apartment this morning:

Scruffy man, cabbie hat, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, very calmly addressing his two teeny, plaid-jacketed, frenziedly barking Chihuahuas: “I don’t know what to say to you to make you stop doing this.”