One of those days, a few months ago.

I wake up and am waiting for my coffee to brew, and then I realize that I forgot to turn it on.

And then, when I do turn it on, it’s the wrong burner and it starts singeing a pan that I had sitting out on top of it, which I only notice when the burning gets so bad that you can start smelling it.

It’s a rainier, greyer day, too, and I can’t read the footnote of an article that I had printed out in 4-on-1 format to save paper and make it so I save space in my hard files of marked-up articles, so I have to bring it to the window to look at it there, or use the bright light on my smartphone to illuminate it.

At the local brewery that night, the one (white) (young) (female) bartender with (pussy hat) energy is coughing up a storm and wiping her nose with the back of her hand, repeatedly, and it’s totally Typhoid Mary vibes.

. . .

(“Maybe she needed the money and couldn’t afford not to come into work,” my mom says later.)

A customer interaction at my new job…

…at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, that I now work at:

When a (well-dressed) (vaguely foreign) (round-faced) (older) (white) lady who's (mildly chunky) and who had been getting wine and cocktails with two (educated) (white American) types goes to pay, she hands me the bill and cash, and is like, “That should take care of it,” to which I’m like, “The only problem is if there’s too little.”

And, at that, “Ha!”, she’s like, “Yes!”.

A strange nighttime event.

I’m shutting off lights in the kitchen and preparing to go enter my bedroom to read before bed, when suddenly my mild headache becomes a quick sharp pain in my right front lobe, just there and gone in a flash.

And, it really freaks me out, although there’s no effects on anything else like impaired motion or whatnot like I assume would happen from a burst blood vessel or a mild stroke or that kind of thing, so I just chalk it up as a manifestation of the mild headache that I was having, although I do consider writing a farewell note or something saying what happened to leave on my kitchen table, in case I don’t wake up, which in retrospect is odd since if I was feeling like that was a true possibility, I probably should have gone to the emergency room to figure out what happened and gotten it checked out.

A feat of envrionmental neuroticism:

After late spring ants start coming into my cupboard and crawling all over the (folded over and binder-clipped down) bag of brown sugar there, I pull out this damaged Glad plasticware bowl where I had accidentally put a knife through the side in a big slash since I had used it to freeze some broth and then was cutting portions off from the frozen ice-chunk inside that plastic bowl there and the knife slipped, only, now I just slapped duct tape over that part of the bowl, and I could use it to seal the sugar inside and keep it ant-proof, since the ants couldn't smell it anymore once it was inside the repaired container.

An advantage of my new job:

I can walk or bus to this one grocery store near campus, and then walk and catch another bus route home, and that store usually has *great* sales on Greek yogurt, not to mention avocados.

For me, Greek yogurt is like the perfect treat, especially when it’s non-fat, since it’s all savory and protein-rich and relatively low calorie – 1 gram of protein per every 10 calories is a good ratio, I’ve heard – and plus you can dress it up with like oats and brown sugar and stuff if you want to, as some sort of dessert/sweet thing that’s not too horrendously bad for you.

The only downside is all if the plastic containers that are left over afterwards, even if you buy it in bulk and not in the little individually-packaged thingies… Just so wasteful.

I wish they had some sort of more environmentally-friendly bulk yogurt containers that wasn’t plastic, to tell you the truth…  Right now I’m just washing them out and saving them in my cupboard so I can use them to store bulk beans and grains and whatnot when I buy that kind of thing down at the local co-op, although there’s only so much of that that you can do, to re-use containers.

A (Brazilian) surprise.

As I’m in bed sleeping until late like I always do because of my later work schedule, I hear my phone ringing with some calls like twice in 2 minutes, and when I get up later, I see that it’s WhatsApp calls from the one (worked out) (STEM) (Brazilian), who I had sent a message to there a day or 2 earlier to see how he was settling back down after his return home.

He was calling me to do Facetime-type stuff like I’ve seen (Brazilians) do incessantly with each other, like I was one of them!

It’s funny, because once when I was hanging out with him and the one (young) (heavyset) (blonde) artist who lives in the college town that I now live in, he got a call like that, and it was the (short) (elderly) (always elegantly-dressed) mother of the (vivacious) and (warm) (Brazilian) wife of the (older) couple who’ve lived around town for years…  She had talked with him a lot at their parties, and she was online and saw that he was on, and so she called him up to see how he was doing, even though she’s like decades and decades older than him!

It’s really funny how (Brazilians) use social media and technology so differently from us…  Just a lot of different norms and ways that they use things, like the way that they are always present with each other socially through them.

New routines at my new job..

…at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel:

1) Whenever no-one’s around and I'm dumping drinks into the bar’s sink, I not only set dirty glasses up in the rack there next to the small dishwasher for glassware like we’re supposed to do, but I reach into the sink and collect any straws garnishes etc. to throw out, and I also palm any unsqueezed lemons or limes, then after throwing the other stuff out, I furtively slip them into my back pocket as I walk away, so I can take them home and use the juice for that haircare highlighting thing that I've been doing for years now, where I squeeze the citrus into my hand and rub it in my hair before going outside into the sun.

If no-one's around or looking, I kind of do the same in the dishroom off the kitchen when I return plates with fish sandwiches or the cod platter and people didn’t use their giant lemon wedges.

2) When I get cut at the end of the night but a big basketball game is on TV for the local university, I stay around 4 or 5 minutes to watch, as do like 3-4 other staff people who are on or off shift, in the closing later-night restaurant with a handful of tables still in it.