executive branch in a nation of one
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Sunday morning I spent at the laundromat: it's great, because people show up at the laundromat like Adam and Eve. Not that they're naked, y'know, but it's generally assumed that when you're at the laundromat you're automatically wearing the shittiest possible outifit you own, and people just don't care. Except, strangely, this phenomenal-looking Russian (or Ukrainian? sadly my Russian has deteriorated to the point where I can't even pick out if people around me are speaking it or not) woman, who decided that showing up at the laundromat at 10:30a on a Sunday required stylish clothing and full makeup. The rest of us had to wallow in the knowledge of original sin after that.
Evening, now: I'm recovering from an absurdly brutal workweek, and I'm watching the Mets lay down and die. Jonathan Franzen wrote a really apt description of the utterly crass and sordid behavior of front-running Yankee fans in one of his novels; I've got to dig that out at some point.
Bill's graduation party was last weekend; he's spending the first two weeks of August in Europe, before he heads to St. Louis. It occurs to me that it's now been six years since I last visited France. Far, far too long.
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