And suddenly the things cohere. There is almost a palpable hiss. The people I don't know or do know or sort of know troop into my apartment and out of it, leaving five-dollar bills and ten-dollar bills and taking away blender, mirror, free weights, laundry basket. I blow the money on a balmy evening in the Pied Cow's garden with Kate and Chalcey
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I have to pick up some stuff at my old house, and you have a car-could we do the quick errand and then maybe a shopping-movie double whammy?
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I applied to be the editor of the new one, and it turns out that they're restructuring the whole thing and hiring one overseeing editor and four headline writers. I asked to be considered for both. It seems to me unlikely that they'll hire a 22-year-old new grad who doesn't quite meet the standard of Super-Hip-itude to be their public manifestation (the editorial job description they sent me has a lot of media relations stuff), but I'd love to be a headline writer.
I think it's exciting.
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we should try to figure out something regarding getting the apartment cleaned up properly. Unfortunately, I won't be available Friday, and you're leaving Saturday...
Also, do you know what's going to happen with your table? I'd rather not have to deal with getting it out of the apartment on top of all my other furniture that has to be moved.
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It struck out on reedlj; I'm putting it on Craigslist.
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Bleh, moving, yuck! I should be home most of the evening after work packing. Le sigh.
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Please, all I do is wander around my own apartment. I have a balcony for smokin' and a teapot for brewin'. You should come over. Or, of course, we could pay someone else to make the tea. When is good?
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