2001-06-11 - 2:41 p.m.

Today at work, everyone cried. At least, both Nancy and Da Boss-Lady cried, which, as far as I can remember, is two more people than I have ever seen cry here. Da Boss-Lady was upset because her uncle is very sick; Da Boss-Lady did not provide me with a reason. All I am sure of is that she is in a bad mood, and hasn't gotten back to me with the work I should be doing today. Oh well.

I could cry too, if I spent too much time thinking about being back at work and in Pittsburgh - I haven't written in a while because I was at Gus' parent's house in Baltimore, a little slice of heaven on the east coast. I understand why Gus feels guilty about his childhood - his family is as perfect as it gets. Staying there was like being wrapped up in a warm hug for three and a half days, I kid you not. And it's obvious that I've not been away from the premises very long, otherwise, I would not have been able to bring myself to type something that earth-shatteringly sappy. Be glad I didn't have time to jot down any notes while I was there.

It's becoming more and more important to remind myself that I am shiny and new in Baltimore, and that's why I'm so well liked. The more time I spend with Gus' family, the more time I want to spend time with them, but I wonder if my presence at their home needs to be rare and infrequent in order to warrant fresh flowers in my room and a fresh bar of soap, always a different kind, on top of the stack of fluffy towels waiting for me on the guest room desk. How do I get close to these people I care about without giving up my celebrity-crush-esque mystique? Am I correct in assuming that we'll tire of eachother eventually? Am I just paranoid that the better they know me, the less they will like me? Or are they, as I really, really hope they are, actually the nicest people on the whole planet, and totally deserving of every drop of faith I could ever possibly place in them? Only time will tell, I suppose.

In other news, I've been told I need to "watch my back" around Penny Hatpin*, the resident psycho hose beast at the Office of the APAA. Apparently, if I don't keep things neat and tidy, and if I appear to be surfing the net rather than working, she reports that to the Provost and Vice Provost. How's that for complete fucking bullshit? Not that I have any notion as to what they have invested in whether or not I am a model staff assistant, since it's really up to DBL and Barbara to guauge whether or not I'm doing a decent job. it's not really a big deal, just something that's making me paranoid while I write. Yay. *Name has been changed to assuage my paranoia.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: