Act natural

( Friday, Dec. 20, 2002 11:54 am )

>Oh you pretty things

I sort of forgot that I was not supposed to be behaving ridiculously and having crushes on boys, and the reason I forgot was that Harry Potter himself got on the subway the other day (an actual schoolboy!) and I ogled a bit before I remembered that I wasn't supposed to. It's only fairly creepy that I like uniformed teenagers now, but I suspect it will get creepier as I age. The non-crushy-ogling rule also experienced a severe blow last night because Juney got me the Naked Chef wall calendar (and a bag full of ramen) for Xmas, and how merry it was indeed! I know he talks like his tongue is too big for his mouth, but really, he could wrap me in smoky bacon any day. It's not the New Year, so I don't have to be resolute about this kind of thing yet.

Anyway, I'm going home tomorrow, by a route that I have yet to work out. I've finished most of my shopping already, but I thought I would go in to Chinatown today and try to find some little thing for my high school friend Annette and Adam's girlfriend Carrie, who I fear might have gotten me something. Ohhhh noooo, and for Landlady Ellie, I forgot about that. You're supposed to give the landlord something for Christmas, right? Like money, usually? In our case I was thinking of the best champagne that eight dollars can buy.

Speaking of presents, I've realized too late that I should have asked for tools, like an electric drill and a sander and something else important which escapes me now. A staple gun! I have many home improvement tasks gnawing at me, yet there is nothing I can do to hang our beautiful Open 24 Hours sign, refinish the secondhand furniture, or upholster the kitchen chairs. Sad. Landlady Ellie has furnished a warning example of a Single Gal Caught Without Tools, as she has had our inept neighbor man over repeatedly in an attempt to install the horrible baby gates on the stairs. So far, the one on our landing is held to the wall with tiny scraps of wood and protruding nails, and the one on her stairs is just wedged in, not actually attached at all, and I nearly knock it down the stairs on a daily basis.

Have I explained where I live? Juney and I have the third floor of Ellie's house, so we have to walk through her portion of the house in order to get to ours. It's fostered a real neighborliness that's kind of nice. You would think it would be weird for her, but she's usually quite glad to talk to us, especially on weekends, when she's spent all day with the baby.

And finally, New Year's Resolution #3: Either get a job or purge myself of my multiple consumer fantasies. Or both.

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