26th
Unemployment, part 2
My landlords are having new radiators installed, which, for reasons not entirely clear to me, meant that a plumber needed to traipse into my apartment two or three times this morning to deal with my radiators.
I’m not a particularly socially graceful person at the best of times, but I have no idea how to handle this kind of interaction (a major reason why it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever hire some sort of cleaning service (and why my home will never be actually clean)). Should I just go about my business like nothing’s going on, and there’s no stranger in my apartment? Should I play the part of the gracious hostess and offer him something to eat or drink? The latter wasn’t really an option, because of my aforementioned awkwardness, and the fact that there’s really very little to eat or drink, and the former certainly wasn’t an option…So I opted for a third way…I made up a routine that I pretended to follow.
Instead of crawling out of bed around 10:30, lounging around in front of the TV in my pajamas for hours, watching whatever house hunting shows happen to be on HGTV, lazily checking email and glancing at blogs, I leapt out of bed at…well, it was still 9:15, but that’s progress, people! I threw on less-than-clean exercise clothes (as a way to explain my less-than-clean self, I suppose—“oh no, it’s not that I’m too lazy to shower, it’s just that I’m about to run out to the gym!”), and sat at the table instead of the couch (this is a MAJOR change). I made sure to have lots of tabs open on my computer, so I could look Terribly Busy when the plumber walked in. (I even replaced a youtube tab with a New Yorker one, so, should he happen to notice, he would of course realize that, while I might be unemployed and unwashed, I’m at least edifying myself!)
This plan worked perfectly well for his first two appearances, because he was doing his thing, and I, at the very least, looked like I was doing mine. On his final visit, though, he just sat on the radiator three feet away from me doing nothing for eight minutes. Eight. Minutes. Just staring. Silently. I have never typed so furiously or focused so intently on my computer screen in my life.
At first I was relieved that I had had the foresight to put on my ipod, so that at the very least, there wouldn’t be complete silence. Then, of course, I realized that all I had done was expose my guilty pleasure playlist to the ears of a total stranger. (did I mention he was sitting there for eight minutes? Do you know how many songs can be heard in that time?) But, I mean, everyone likes Erasure, right…?
