eyes and storms

So last night I was postponing the Halloween shindig and the getting my sister out of the apartment where she lives with some stupid druggies and giving her lots of advice culled from years of living with roommates who were crazy or just plain crazy people (those times when I left my musical gear in friends' apartments and kept my laptop, cash, and a change of clothes in the trunk and hid the Cutco knives in a pile of clothes in my bedroom closet, I don't miss those days at all)...

The advice to get everything out of the house you can now rather than later (which can be tough going if you don't even have a key despite paying rent), letting your landlord know that things aren't good, that the friendship that will be lost never really was one in the first place.

And then, that being figured out as much as humanly possible, I chilled out with a pile of books and choice tuneage on the stereo until the lights went out, incense burning and all the candles at my disposal lit, tapers, tealights, lanterns and votives. Those novena ones from the supermarket with the Virgin on them were especially useful since the glass keeps the flame contained and those things burn for days like a nightlight, so I went to sleep curled up fetal in the loveseat wrapped in blankets and listening with awe to the wailing wind.

I've never heard a sound like it go on for that long and that loud until it became white noise and I woke up to go to the station and realized I didn't want to drive in that wind and opted for a couple extra hours of sleep and a bus ride downtown in almost absolute darkness, making the morning commute something dark and surreal.

I find out upon arrival that I could have played hooky with no repercussions, and of course it's just the way it goes that the schlubs who schlepped it down here get the satisfaction of being good little cogs and the lazy punks get a free day off. Because that's fair.We're told it'll come back around and of course we'd want to be here anyway because wouldn't you rather sit at a desk and stare at a computer instead of chilling at home with a cup of tea and a pile of books? I know what I'd rather do.

Though the rest of us had to do without, and if I had punked, I would have screwed over the only peons left, and there was ample amounts of swank free leftover food and a couple hours of easy overtime so no complaints from the peonage besides eye-rolling with MaggiesFarmisms of those who think they work so hard.

The paper's almost done, the pigeons have returned, and it keeps getting darker and more comfortingly dreary...got phone calls involving dinner and warm places and movie nights, part of me wants to return to my cocoon but it's not every day day demi-disaster brings us together.