Sundries

1. I found out that I sold +$75,500 worth of fancy French lotions in the past five months. This made me sadder than I have felt in a long time.

2. In a rare act of penance, I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed said fancy French lotions shop’s unspeakably filthy floor. Yes. That was me. I did that. I swept, then mopped, then finally scrubbed the floor with all the elbow grease I could muster trying to regain the soul I had so slavishly sold to the devil known as retail.

3. My university’s corrupt housing association tried to extort money from me. This is how they did it. They had a middle aged woman with the Relief Society Voice call me and demand February 2008’s rent from me. Her voice was sugary on the message but when I called up to talk to her she was no-nonsense, even steely. When I told her that I had never lived in Belmont (not blonde or rich enough—not to mention my car doesn’t have a fin) and, moreover, that I had not lived in Provo for something like six months she got quiet. Without so much of an apology she said goodbye and hung up the phone.

4. My university’s alumni association sent me a very important envelope bearing a red stamp that said “Mini Diploma Enclosed.” Oh how my roommates and I joked about how funny it would be if there was an actual mini diploma inside. Oh how we laughed. Even though the envelope was stamped with letters clearer than the noon day’s sun, I still wasn’t expecting the treasure that fell into my lap. It was, in the exact literal sense, a mini diploma. It is about the size of a business card and laminated. Both attributes will be real handy at all those cocktail parties I schmooze at—“Don’t worry Mr. Powerful Museum Executive, I’m a college grad! [Whip out laminated mini diploma, nearly knocking PME’s drink out of his hand in the process. Wipe any martini splatters off of protective plastic.] See? Proof!”

5. I survived a DC lockdown. There were police men yelling at us to stay in our shops, lock the doors, and stay away from the windows. There were a few K-9 units and some men bungling about in scuba-esque gear. It was an Unattended Box Situation. Somehow nobody panicked. In fact, my managers and I sat in the back room serenely listening to the sirens and yelling officers while we shucked cellophane and raffia into various neatly labeled boxes. It was like a modern adaptation of that one scene in Pollyanna with the housekeepers on the porch.

6. I got a job. A real job. It has, like, conference rooms and office suites.