NEVER TALK ABOUT WORK

6:00 AM
On the way to work, I notice a trailer for sale outside the community gate where we live, with these words scrawled on the side, in that white paint damn near impossible to scrape from the glass:

“EVERYTHING WORKS”

‘Well that makes ONE of us,’ I think, right before I’m filled with the urge to flatten one of its tires.

* * *
6:40 AM Thoughts
In short, I see only that which I covet, and as I know, to covet is to sin, and unlike to grope, it is a mortal sin, and not a class C misdemeanor.

Oddly enough, to covet is not punishable by any mortal laws.

* * *
7:15 AM Out Loud, At My Desk, Before Anyone Else Arrives
What I covet at the moment, however, is a hairy chest, since it gives the appearance of pinker nipples, which somehow seem so much dirtier than my own inconspicuous buttons o’joy. And I covet the co-worker who broke the copier yesterday, because one of my secret thrills is finding the paper jam. Following the step-by-step instructions, opening the various compartments tied to numbered schematics, hearing the harsh, plastic clicks, allowing the overheated parts to come dangerously close to contact with my bare skin. Tugging at accordion-shaped 60# White, smeared with toner dust. I covet these office adventures and victories.

* * *
10:30 AM
She: “I’m so discomboobulated. Is that a word?”

Me: “I think you mean discombobulated.”

She: “Oh. What’s discomboobulated?”

Me: “It’s a movie I saw in college.”

* * *
1:07 PM
He: “You wrote some books, right? What were they about?”

Me: “College stuff. Pretty dumb. One was called…”

He: “Hey, do you think you could help me publish a book? I’m writing a historical novel about war.”

Me: “Oh, like Catch-22? That’s probably my favorite book! God, it was funny.”

He: /silence

Me: “You did say hysterical novel?”

He: “Historical.”

Me: “Oh.”

* * *
2:18 Lunch
I was so proud because I kept from biting into the hard candy the entire time. And when I sucked it all the way to a final remaining sliver I felt oddly unsatisfied.

So I ate an entire tin of altoids at my desk.

* * *
3:49 Upon Leaving
Oh, you thought your dad was bad, HA! I don’t even know how we SURVIVED. I remember driving down the road, my old man had a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and the wheel between his legs.

Yeah, but at least you were old enough for seatbelts.

Pfft. We stood on the seat and played. Whenever we stopped too fast he stuck his arm out to keep us from hitting the cracked vinyl dash. THAT was our seatbelts. If we were lucky, we landed on a (word edited out because i'm a moron).

* * *
6:15 Home

Whatcha eating?

Butter cookies.

That just looks like butter.

We were out of flour. I improvised.