Mephitis mephitis, Philosophiæ Doctor (floyd_mephit) wrote,
Mephitis mephitis, Philosophiæ Doctor

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It stormed last night while I was out trying to get groceries, knocked the power out in half the city and was blowing over portapotties and trashcans out into the sea. And of course my apartment leaks like a sieve so there's wetness everywhere. I had no groceries so I found an old can of chili to eat instead. I called my mother and did the whole call bullshit. I kind of sit back in some kind of meta-state and laugh about how much I hate all holidays and perennial occurrences, and how I'm getting better at pretending their absence except the ones for which relevant family members still live.

I was taking the elevator down to go home for lunch, when I heard rain, HARD rain in the elevator shaft. I thought, A)damnit it's still raining and I have no umbrella and B)why in the hell is it raining in the elevator shaft? Then as I the elevator descended onto the ground floor, water started leaking in through the gaps in the door and I began to get concerned, because it reminded me of that scene from BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA where they're descending to the hell of the upside down sinners (which from the cinematography doesn't look like it washes out of denim well). Then the doors opened and water started GUSHING into the elevator and pouring out of the top of the doorway, which left me little option besides running through the stuff and going directly outside. I dunno if that water was clean or was runoff from the drain lines (which would probably mean it's full of whatever nossy tox all the BSL-2 labs above are flushing down the drain). I hope that I'm not going to turn into the Toxic Avenger from all of that crap going down the back of my shirt, because I just bought a new mop and don't want to mess it up with Troma-esque blood geyser stains.

I found out today that my manuscript has been rejected, which means I am worth exactly 2 pieces of shit-corn at my job. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, and show the world the threadbare, elastic-frayed miscolored argyle sock of my mind. I guess that it's about 9 hours fifteen minutes until this day of days is through, and is buffered by 364 of its clones until it comes again.

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