You know those days when everything feels as though it is tinged with that hum, that buzzing like a floursecent light bulb? I’m having one of those.
(as I wrote that, I had a flash of that Simpson’s episode where Ned is in a mental hospital and Homer is brought in to piss him off. Homer is asking him if he hates anything, when he asks “Flourescent light bulbs,” Ned responds, “MMMM-MM, sound like angels! You’re never alone when you have a Flourescent Light Bulb!”)
In order to push it along, I’ve been working on my graduate application. I’ve been working on a short story. I’ve been taking the strangest phone calls: My father about a reunion that neither of us wants to attend, an ex-lover needing help moving on Saturday, one of the thousands of people who think that my office is the immigration office.
I’ve been trying to find little things to make me smile. I’m starting to have trouble with it.