Boys that smell like salami and boys that never apologize

Happy Passover! It is a time to appreciate the little things, like when your boss feels sorry for you all holed up in your office and brings you a mochiatachino with whipped cream. It is also a good time to remember that I live the greatest city in the world, not desert bondage.

This last week was a killer, less involvment in the extruciating pain of women and children but more paperwork. Ugh. Despite the anxiety and sleep deprivation, despite shocking revelations and meetings that made me cry, my righteous indignation and self pity just would not stick. For instance, it was all smiles and elation while driving through the South Shore in the early spring weather, listening to my official Herald the Coming of Spring Album. In 1996 I had one of the best spring time walks of my life to the Cap N' Jazz album. I didn't like myself much, but I loved my friends, my walk home, my yellow Sports Walkman and being, you know, 19. My Heralding of Spring ritual allows me to recapture that precious time and yet still be all up and down thankful it has passed.

On the way down I got to drive behind "BLK MAN" in a burgundy Monte Carlo. And then I trailed "CHIDIVA" 's Rio on the way home. People in the know gave me a perfect Avoid the Dan Ryan Route and it was all smooth and beautiful driving on rails. Oil is bad and everytime I drive my sister's Cabrio I am effectively running over an Iraqi child but sometimes...it's soooo good.

Tomorrow I try to hustle lower interest rates, get out of my student loans, and find the perfect part time job. In order to maximize my productivity I depleted this desperate vortex of time tonight. Unlike the great puzzle that is this life, the some computer nerds have given us the sweet relief of an answer key.

Shalom!