Okay I know no one gives a shit about my relationships with the people who work at businesses in my neighborhood, but whatever, I don’t talk a lot during the day, and I think I’m losing perspective on what people find interesting. Anyway, so Vincent and I have fully remembered each other’s names. It’s great. I was dropping off laundry yesterday, and he was like “hey Edith,” and I was like “hey Vincent,” and he was like … “is your last name … Zimmerman?” And I was like omg (in my head), because like an idiot I thought maybe he had seen something I’d written or something, and now would think I was cool, so I was like “… yeahhh??” And he’s like, “I have a surprise for you.” And I’m like holy shit. And here I’d tell you what crossed my mind, but it is significantly beyond too embarrassing to commit to “print,” also it wasn’t REALLY that bad because he didn’t give me TOO much of an opportunity to imagine what his surprise might be, because then he pulled this USB drive from a bucket and said he found it in a dryer. I was like “WHAT!” because it was mine, and I think I had all my tax documents on it when it was time to get them printed, and he was like “yeah, I didn’t look too much — just enough to see the last name.” And I was like, “oh, oh my god, don’t even worry about that, thank you so much! This is crazy!” And he was like, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for a long time!” I don’t wash my clothes a lot.
I’d forgotten I’d lost it. But if he hadn’t known my first name, it would never have come together. I read somewhere that you’re always supposed to know the first names of people you see more than once every six months (or something), and that seems smart. I mean, I don’t know the names of anyone who lives in my building, but I don’t talk to them, although I did hear one having sex last week. Also, I got TWO new pairs of underwear in my returned laundry today, I’m not sure what to do about that. What’s the karmic balancing of getting free (“free” = trash-bound) underwear in the laundry? When I got someone else’s pants and shirt, I brought them back to the laundromat, but it’s not like someone’s going to come in being like “did anyone return my old Old Navy underwear?”
Whatever, maybe they will. Are these your underwear?
