Ok, so here is a question for everyone. Consider it philosophy of the mundane. If you are on a crowded subway train at rush hour and you're sick, would it be better to throw up or pass out? Sort of like the which-is-worse-and-why grossout game. This occurred to me a few days ago, as I stood smushed in a corner of a crowded train and felt like I was on the verge of doing at least one, if not both. Personally, I decided I would rather pass out, because at least that way you're spared having to face all the other commuters. Although for a while I was sorely tempted to go with puking, because I really wanted to hose down the lady in front of me who kept leaning on me and hitting me with her bag. What do they do if someone throws up on the train? What about fainting? I really need to know these things.
And speaking of mundane, I have had lots of time and opportunity to watch people in the last few weeks. And I have noticed something. People are strange. For example, what is about umbrellas that turns regular people into slobbering oblivious fools? Why do people even bother with umbrellas? In the city when it rains it is also very windy. Umbrellas are thoroughly USELESS in wind. Yet people insist on carrying them around, poking me, dripping on me, whapping me. I don't get it.
Another thing is people go into denial if you try to tell them they dialed a wrong number. Apparently my direct line at work is almost the same as the number for the Local 207, except two of the digits are reversed. At least 2 or 3 times a week, when I answer the phone ("Nature Genetics, this is Monica"), I hear in return "(fill in common male name here)?" or a confused pause and then a very suspicious "Is this the Local 207?".
"No," I say, "you must have the wrong number."
"Are you sure?" they ask me. Well, I don't know, wait a second, let me go take a survey of my coworkers and find out if any of THEM are the Local 207. Very bizarre.
"Yes, I'm sure." I tell them. Then they proceed to tell me the phone number of the Local 207, "Is this 726-9730?".
"No," I say again, "YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER!"
Finally they are convinced and hang up the phone. Can anyone explain this to me? What is going on with these people? What part of 'wrong number' is so incomprehensible?
Anyway, this weekend I am moving my stuff from Virginia up to New York to my new apartment in Brooklyn. I am not really looking forward to moving during Labor Day weekend, but hey, blame Murphy. I don't have my new phone number yet (and get this [side note], the phone guy is supposed to come on Tuesday to check the jacks or something [shut up Dave] sometime between 8am and 5pm. You would think the telecommunications people could be a little more precise, wouldn't you?). But I finally broke down and got a cell phone.
Hope everyone has a terrific Labor Day weekend, and feels sorry for me having to drive back and forth in a moving van from NJ to VA to NY with everyone else on the east coast.
