Well I had a lovely Thanksgiving. My family got along, my homemade green been casserole was a hit, and I owned at Bananagrams.
I don't want to complain too much about being in the office today, even though it's so quiet I swear I can hear the whir of subatomic particles. After all, I'm being paid to sit here. I'm warm, fed, and caffeinated. And it's actually not anywhere near as soul-crushing as working in retail or food service, despite what I may occasionally say to the contrary. So on this, Black Friday, day of the final Desk Chair installment, I would like to emphasize that I am grateful.
That being said, why on Earth am I here? The phone has rung twice today. Twice. There wasn't even anyone on the other end of the line the second time. And the first call was technically for another branch. So actually, I think we can safely say that there have been zero calls today. Zero. If I haven't already made this clear to you, answering the phone is my entire job.
(Update: 3 times. But it was the same guy that called the first time. STILL ZERO.)
Also, my boss ordered pizza for everyone. Perfect, I was hoping to complete my descent into morbid obesity before the end of the weekend. So far, I've avoided it by taking an angry walk to the store for a yogurt and an apple... but still. There are aromas to contend with. AROMAS.
The little guilty voice is saying, "some people don't have food at all and you're complaining about aromas?" If I were a person who said "first world problems," I'd probably say it now. But I'm not, because I find it insulting somehow. To everyone. One of these days I'll figure out precisely why. I have a feeling my reasons are at least three-fold. For now, I trust you're intelligent enough to recognize that humorously describing one's relatively minor daily trials and having a keen understanding of the world's many complicated ills are not mutually exclusive.
Anyway, since we're wrapping things up (I'm taking next week off for Artslife* purposes), I thought I'd do a quick blurb about a few of the suggestions I never got around to:
Jessi suggested this. I don't know why. Maybe she got one recently? I haven't gotten a parking ticket in a while. I did, however, get a ticket on the Tobin Bridge recently because I didn't have enough money for the toll. They take down your license plate and bill you later... so you can imagine my delight at finding the guy had written some random combination of letters and numbers that weren't mine at all. He even said they were Connecticut plates. I think he was doing me a solid. I sincerely hope that guy has a wonderful holiday season.
I believe I've mentioned before that my friend Sarah refers to my singing endeavors as "Artslife." It's also sort of a catch-all phrase for any number of things that make her really uncomfortable. For example, "Oh my God, there was this table of drunk Artslife kids who would NOT stop singing Les Miserables" or "That friend of yours is really dramatic. Is she super Artslife or what?" Additionally, it comes in handy if I have something going on that I don't feel like explaining: "Sorry, can't come out this weekend." "Why?" "Oh, you know, Artslife."
Seems appropriate to end with what was actually the first suggested topic for The Desk Chair series. I've decided that this daunting subject is better left to The Armchair proper and plan to revisit it in the near future. In the meantime, here's a fun fact: Chavez apparently once wanted to be a painter. And a baseball player. And a priest. So. There you have it.