Tuesday, August 16, 2005


Today I saw an apartment that I want. It's on the 8th floor of an apartment building right around the corner from the Central Square T. I'd share it with a guy who consults philanthropists on which charities to donate to, but I'd have my own bathroom. It's beautiful and largely unused, since N. works all the time - the kitchen is sleek and pristine and ultra-modern, but the only signs of food are 8 frozen pizzas in the freezer. Like that. There's a projector instead of a TV and a housecleaner twice per month. The best part is a large private deck overlooking much of Cambridge, right across the street from the steeple of a Baptist Church that, in N's words, is thankfully too poor to be able to fix their churchbell, and behind which the sun sets. Lots of nice wooden furniture on the deck, and lots of pots of flowers, which he took a reassuringly long time telling me about. And (relatively) cheap - $975. And parking available in the building. And the location is ridiculously excellent.

I said I wanted it, N said he had to show it to one more person, and if that person was interested, he'd give it to whichever of us had emailed him first, but he thinks that was me. He's going to let me know tonight.

I didn't really feel that N and I hit it off smashingly, but that could be because I wanted the apartment so much that I was trying hard to be agreeable, pointing out only as an afterthought that if you squint at his map of Iceland, whence he just returned from a 2-week vacation, it looks like the human heart turned on its side. He is, as they say, a suit. At any rate, he only has to agree to let me move in and then I'll win him over with my irrepressible joie de vivre or, failing that, my peerless spanokopita. Single female friends! He is tall and dark and handsome in that way that seems almost custom made to charm rich widows. Or maybe single male friends. At any rate, while I have learned my lesson well, never have I been so relieved to not hear a Texan accent.

On a different note, work has gotten tremendously fun. I'm working more as a fully-functioning team member now instead of an intern to whom work gets delegated, and they've been pretty happy with the stuff I've done, which is often the kind of punchy edgy copy that I can write fairly well. It is interesting, the extent to which that which we're taught in the MAPW program - concision! well-reasoned arguments! - is contraindicated by some of the projects I'm working on. And clients sometimes have risible ideas of what ought to be in their own materials. You know. If something is offered in 40, 80, and 120 GB versions, "collect all three!" is not a compelling argument. Nor do I really think they want to use emoticons. And often I get called on to edit stuff, which makes me deliriously happy - I'm going to try to work for the CMU press as an editor when I come back to school - and people call me to talk about scare quotes and hyphens. Anyway, tomorrow I'm going to Chicago for with 3 others, among them Relaxedly Glamorous Erin, on whom I have a kind of girl crush, for a meeting on Thursday, at which I will represent the writers. Pretty exciting, for a country mouse.


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