You know, I lived here at Kayeeee's for three weeks with no dogs or cats, and the whole time I've been saying, "Truthfully, it's delightful!" And it has been. I think this is the longest I've lived without a pet, ever, other than in the dorms, where I had a roommate in seven feet of space, so same thing. Plus also we got a bunny eventually. "We." Plus also I brought home a bunny eventually.
Imagine the delightful things my old roommate must have to say about me.
But my dogs have been here two nights now, and yes, it's furrier and louder, and the first time I walked in and they charged me at the door and I forgot they'd be in here it was a shock. But, oh, there are so many more times in the day to be happy when you have dogs. I am sorry to report to you that we may have just wrestled on the floor, the three of us, till Edsel took it too far as he always does and just stood over us and bark bark bark bark barked at Talu and me. Talu and I rolled our eyes at each other and got up off the floor.
Yesterday at work, we'd planned to go to a happy hour, because one of the Alexes is moving to another department. A couple people who couldn't go said, "It's not like she's leaving forever; she'll just be upstairs." I cannot get behind that kind of logic that gets between you and your drinking. One guy had a sick wife and kids. "And you're gonna let THAT interfere with your DRINKING? That's when you know you have a problem," I said to him.
No one at work likes me.
The point is, I came home for a really late lunch. I drove the 20 ding-dang minutes here, and 20 minutes back, so I could let the dogs out for 20 minutes, so that when I came home at 6:30, it wouldn't be the end of the world.
Tallulah was down with the whole backyard time.
In the afternoon, a bunch of boys at work went in the parking lot and threw that dang football around for a few minutes. I sat on the fire escape and watched them. "You want us to throw the ball at you, June?" they asked. Oh, HELL, no. I saw what happened to Marcia Brady when a football came flying at her. Oh, my nose. I mean, I say that enough anyway.
It was a perfect fall day, with the cobalt sky and the yellow leaves blowing hither and also yon. Where is yon?
I was enjoying seeing my middle-aged coworkers throw a football around, and also Ryan who is a zygote. It was cool to see who'd clearly been an athlete, and who'd always been an editor nerd.
It occurred to me that these people have no idea how much they've saved my ass these last six weeks. Just by being funny, or by quietly asking how I'm doing, or by being a middle-aged man throwing a football on an autumn afternoon, they've helped me. I know I'll be okay.
Why we went to a college bar after work is beyond me, and I got there half an hour after everyone else, because work ethic. The place was decorated for Halloween. "They should really sweep in here. Cobwebby," I said, gazing at myself fondly.
"We already made that joke," they said. They'd also already joked about the side door, that had 394842304024 EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY signs on it. "I feel like it's okay to leave through that door no matter what," I said.
"Yeah. We've already laughed about that."
I hate my coworkers. Aaaaaand now you see why I'm June Bright and Dark.
But speaking of bright, remember the Alex who got married in the spring? Drunk on half a beer. Half a beer. What I am telling you about Alex is she's no Kitty Dukakis, and join me here every day for June's Timely Jokes. "Well, I'm drunk," she announced, and her husband kind of got a yay-I'm-gettin'-me-some look.
"Will you pose drunkenly for me?" I asked.
I love my coworkers.
After an hour, I knew I had to get home to my chilluns, and keep it up and I'll call them that EVERY time. I went to the bar to pay, and it was what you might call chaotic in there, with the kids and their college drinks and the old folk such as ourselves and the Friday-night-ness of it all and so on.
Waiting next to me was a young man of color, and I just heard everyone scoot their chair up so they can hear better. "I guess I'm not gonna pay and get out of here in any sort of hurry," I said to him. "Oh, and incidentally, here is a pic of my dick."
I just said that so my mother would say, "Tsk."
The point is, we chatted for a good 10 or 15 minutes. He's getting his PhD. Me, too. I told him all about my math PhD. Can you get a math PhD? What the hell do you do with that? I also told him about my PhD in maturity and timely jokes.
We talked about my job and his dissertation, and he showed me his Apple watch, which I had admired, and we exchanged names and shook hands and that was really it. I kind of felt like despite the fact that he was 30 at best, he was considering asking me for my phone number, I am not even kidding you. However, he did not, so perhaps I am delusional and a lot like Jane Seymour's KittyCat character in The Wedding Crashers. Won't you buy my tacky heart-shaped necklace?
The point is, it was relatively exciting, and it NEVER OCCURRED TO ME that my fucking coworkers had made popcorn and watched the entire thing without blinking.
I hate my coworkers.
"Ooooooooo!" one of them said, as I got back. "Did you get his number?" another asked. Turns out, not only had they watched every moment like they were all Chauncey Gardner, they'd also all TAKEN PICTURES. "Oh, hell, Jennifer art-directed," one of them said.
Which, while ridiculous, is at least good for my blog. Look at June, workin' it. Sort of.
He was playing pool as I left, and they all told me to give him my number before I walked out, but really it's too soon, and besides, what am I gonna do with a 30-year-old?
Don't answer that.
Courgarly,
Jooooooon
