Home again, home again, where the mice roam and my sister and I fight constantly and where I make no money.
It's good to see the dog again, though. I think he grew.
We had a good weekend in New York, despite the fact that the baby succeeded in his nefarious plot to infect me with RSV. Somewhere about halfway through our walking tour of Manhattan, from the Met to Brooklyn, I went deaf for a while. It was a very unpleasant experience, but I was a trooper, despite any snide comments you may hear to the contrary. While intrepid tour guide Josh and my sister have many good qualities, empathy is not among them. Though I was permitted to go back to the hotel and take a nap before our assault on the Brooklyn Bridge. We covered a lot of ground, and I may finally have a grasp on Manhattan geography. Every other vsit I've made there has been a whirlwind series of cab rides from one meal with old college rommmates to another.
I saw The Gates, and my learned critical opinion on the matter is: good. They are especially pleasing from far away, when you can just glimpse some
saffron Home Depot Orange through the bare trees. We got some particularly nice views of the installation from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which was awesome, though not as awesome as the MOMA. And the best thing about visting these museums, besides casually dropping it into conversation, was that we got to cut to the front of every line and get in for free because Josh has a corporate membership! Y'all know how I love to cut in line.
And I still want to live in a mouse-free apartment in Brooklyn. I love Brooklyn. I like Manhattan too, but there are too many people there.
So now I'm home, about to start my first official day of copyediting. I already got one additional day per week from the same company, so that's good. I'm up to almost ten hours per week of steady employment! Woo-hoo! I'm thinking I may need to pick up a lucrative part-time sideline. Like maybe whoring.
I'm definitely going on a fabulous vacation for my 30th birthday, but I don't know where yet, even though Sis keeps threatening to tell me. I just have to concentrate on not pissing her off between now and then (any more than I do just by being in her presence, yet not under her total control) so that I can have the pleasure of waking up somewhere tropical and having to deduce my location based on the language and culture (i.e, middle-aged European tourists? Dominican Republic! Drunk Midwesterners? Cancun!)