So the power went out at work, meaning I can’t turn my articles in to my boss until tomorrow, which isn’t a big deal and I got to go home early so whatever. The sun was still out, so I threw on my bathing suit and went to the pool to read the newest Atlanta magazine. But I left shortly after because some girl was apparently having a birthday party there and there was a DJ and I would bet my life savings that he has worked in a roller rink before. He was giving shout outs to the surrounding construction workers and I was soldiering through it until he put on “Tootsie Roll” and I could no longer deal. So I walked home and turn on the TV and the series finale of Gilmore Girls was on which is of course my jam because RORY IS ME AND ME IS RORY. I got teary-eyed of course so now I’m going to watch the series finale of The Office because who doesn’t enjoy spending a Friday evening crying alone in her living room while wearing a bathing suit?
“I suffered while waitressing. I suffered, the customers suffered, the cooks suffered, we all suffered. Because I sucked. I could not concentrate. I was writing in my head and it made my face stone faced. I used to be an engaging waitress. Friendly. Thoughtful. Now I’d ask, “What would you guys like to drink?” and then stop listening. I simply didn’t care. I didn’t want to be there and everyone knew it. I was so distracted. I would get struck with inspiration and write all over my arms and on guest checks and shove them into the pockets of my jeans.”—In which The Rumpus is strumming my pain with its fingers.