novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the little girl lost in officeland reads while she walks It is Casual Friday. Years ago my mother invented Hello Tuesdays to balance the week. She figured Mondays were untouchable. I am thinking about this as I walk to work, the hems of my pant legs dragging on asphalt. And then I am half-aware that the red light I'm walking against will change in a few seconds, and I glance up at it between chapters in Empire Falls, binding bent, covers touching. I feel decidedly young today. The components of my physical appearance are arranged to meet the lowered standards of one Casual Friday. Jeans. A shirt. Jacket. Adidas. Scrubbed, unadorned face. Ponytail. Bag looped around shoulder and neck, leaning against back. All of the women in Office Land wear heels. Even on Casual Friday. The one woman on my floor who chanced to wear clogs quit last week. I joined a gym yesterday. Complete with little televisions attached to the Stairmasters and a 25 yard swimming pool. One of the smallest lap pools I've seen, but given my prolongued absence from water, even the chlorine smelled mighty. The women sharing the cubicle behind me are discussing Steve Madden. They are not interested in the fact that my mother taught me to swim before I learned to walk. They do not view this as a clue to my nature. I am not someone that they deem worth analyzing, what with my uncuffed pants and broken books. 8:31 am - 09.05.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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