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neighbors and work
Oct. 20th, 2009 02:09 amOn Saturday evening I had a pleasant time at a low-key cocktail party at my downstairs neighbor's apartment along with several other neighbors in our building and across the way at the very-similar-but-not-the-same complex right next to us.
("How can you tell the difference?" one neighbor asked. My downstairs neighbor Pat feigned hairy eyeball and sidelong glance and joked, "They have the red doors. We have green.")
And so Pat has the same layout as I do, and has lived in her place for nearly a year, but it looks like she just moved in and used the least amount of furniture possible without making it look barren and not lived in. Everything was spotless and spare and neat, and while I have really gotten a lot better about getting rid of the crap and taking the best care of the stuff I've kept, I am definitely a lot more worn around the edges with my belongings. The colors I use are also a lot more warm and ... natural? I dunno. I have chairs with carved patterns and a glossy imperfect oak table and rugs that have seen better days but are tidy and Persian-styled. I finally left off comparing myself to her setup, but it was hard. I had to remind myself that her place was probably quite tranquil, but mine feels more in motion, active, a workspace.
ANYWAY. It was nice, a little Oktoberfest of an evening, with some drinky things, but mostly brats with a few different kinds of mustards and pickles and crackers and cheeses and Sophie the super-happy dog coming by us in turn hoping we'd inadvertantly shake a few crumbs from our laps just for her. Pat wrapped up a goodly amount of leftover brats for me to take back upstairs, and I reheated a couple in a skillet for tonight's dinner, and they were quite tasty.
It was nice to meet a bunch of people who live near me - I have faces and most names to attach, and a fairly good memory for most of their pets, mostly dogs. I was the youngest person there except for when the guy on the 3rd floor front showed up a bit later. He's 23, and as we got to chatting, he was immediately asking my advice on whether to get a PS3 or not. And, as it happens, I never really know how to answer those sorts of questions, because I am not a hardware geek, and I think gaming can be a really personal sort of thing. And sometimes, like with most hobbies, you sort of have to take a chance every now and again, taking the plunge with a purchase. You never know what you might end up really loving.
The rest of the weekend was a blur of getting small tasks done and sleeping from a weird exhaustion - going back to a regular job for the first time in 8 or so months was really surprisingly tiring, and I feel like I am suddenly catching up on a deficit of social interaction and pacing that has been missing for quite some time. The job itself is not physically taxing by a long shot, but I find myself really working hard to pay attention and also deal with all of the thoughts that keep filling my head, where I compare the Previous Me to the Now Me, and noting how nothing at all has really changed, even though so much has happened.
Fundamentally, I am the same woman I have been for years and years. In my pockets I carry clarity, caution, and lintballs of dread.
("How can you tell the difference?" one neighbor asked. My downstairs neighbor Pat feigned hairy eyeball and sidelong glance and joked, "They have the red doors. We have green.")
And so Pat has the same layout as I do, and has lived in her place for nearly a year, but it looks like she just moved in and used the least amount of furniture possible without making it look barren and not lived in. Everything was spotless and spare and neat, and while I have really gotten a lot better about getting rid of the crap and taking the best care of the stuff I've kept, I am definitely a lot more worn around the edges with my belongings. The colors I use are also a lot more warm and ... natural? I dunno. I have chairs with carved patterns and a glossy imperfect oak table and rugs that have seen better days but are tidy and Persian-styled. I finally left off comparing myself to her setup, but it was hard. I had to remind myself that her place was probably quite tranquil, but mine feels more in motion, active, a workspace.
ANYWAY. It was nice, a little Oktoberfest of an evening, with some drinky things, but mostly brats with a few different kinds of mustards and pickles and crackers and cheeses and Sophie the super-happy dog coming by us in turn hoping we'd inadvertantly shake a few crumbs from our laps just for her. Pat wrapped up a goodly amount of leftover brats for me to take back upstairs, and I reheated a couple in a skillet for tonight's dinner, and they were quite tasty.
It was nice to meet a bunch of people who live near me - I have faces and most names to attach, and a fairly good memory for most of their pets, mostly dogs. I was the youngest person there except for when the guy on the 3rd floor front showed up a bit later. He's 23, and as we got to chatting, he was immediately asking my advice on whether to get a PS3 or not. And, as it happens, I never really know how to answer those sorts of questions, because I am not a hardware geek, and I think gaming can be a really personal sort of thing. And sometimes, like with most hobbies, you sort of have to take a chance every now and again, taking the plunge with a purchase. You never know what you might end up really loving.
The rest of the weekend was a blur of getting small tasks done and sleeping from a weird exhaustion - going back to a regular job for the first time in 8 or so months was really surprisingly tiring, and I feel like I am suddenly catching up on a deficit of social interaction and pacing that has been missing for quite some time. The job itself is not physically taxing by a long shot, but I find myself really working hard to pay attention and also deal with all of the thoughts that keep filling my head, where I compare the Previous Me to the Now Me, and noting how nothing at all has really changed, even though so much has happened.
Fundamentally, I am the same woman I have been for years and years. In my pockets I carry clarity, caution, and lintballs of dread.
