Friday, July 21, 2006

And all in just 35 minutes

Sometimes I feel guilty about working from home. And even guiltier when I slip out during the work day to do personal things. Over the past couple of months, I have made a habit of taking a few days of the month where I will look over my own shoulder and try to document every action of the day to give myself perspective on just how I am using time.

Today I did it for lunch, which in my head seemed like such a long time, but in reality was just 35 minutes.

12:31 p.m. -- Got in my car, sniffling a bit because I was leaving a parking spot that was literally in front of my front door.

12:36 p.m. -- Arrived at the Community Thrift Store at 17th and Valencia. Checked out two cabinets for my back junk room. A dilemma of trying to decide on a $60, well constructed unfinished one or a $40 adequately constructed and roomier "Danish modern" (translation: Ikea) one. I opted for the roomier, cheaper one since I'll paint it and put vintage pulls on it anyway. I'm sure it sold for $30 at Ikea originally. I resisted the book section. Although I sometimes think I'm too old for thrift stores, this place is also one of the best used book stores in SF -- great titles, incredibly well organized. And I've never paid more than eight bucks for even a hard cover volume in pristine condition.

12:38 p.m. -- Paid for my cabinet.

12:40 p.m. -- After resisting the tempting pupusarias and taquerias, went to the "upper Valencia" We Be Sushi. I've been to its sister restaurant five blocks south dozens of times where the woman server always asks "Anything for drink?" I am always tempted to reply, "Honey, I would do anything for drink." Amazingly, I've never been in this one though I've walked by it hundreds of times. The same menu, and I had my usual lunch special that is identical to the one at the other location but served on a real plate, not that bizarre piece of plastic shelving they use at the sister venue

12:55 p.m. -- Sushi fully consumed, I pay and head back to to pick up my cabinet. Nab the latest queer and alternative weeklies at the door remembering that I have never gone through the last two weeks' issues. A stoner looking staffer sees my ticket and mumbles something about me being there to pick up furniture. He walks away, putting down some ceramics on a display. I take a deep breath taking the high road of working under the assumption that he is going to help me. I am very pleasantly surprised when he offers to actually carry the piece to my car, taking time to warn me of obstacles as I walk backwards to lead the path carrying the cabinet to my car. He even helps me get it in the car, taking extra care to make sure we don't scrape the upholstery. I know this place is a thrift store, but usually their anti-customer service skills make me swear to never come back. But this guy, scruffy appearance or not, was incredibly helpful. When was the last time someone at Ikea helped me load stuff in my car?

1:01 p.m. -- Arrive in front of my house. A guardian angel has protected my parking space. This truly is good Friday.

1:03 p.m -- Having unloaded the cabinet and put it in the junk room. I begin to sort through my mail. Two bills, three pieces of junk and the latest installment of my "subscription" to Maxim. Okay, is this a joke? Am I the only gay man in America that gets this rag? I check the label every time, but by gum, that is definitely my name there. The only thing I can figure is that when Cargo folded, they transferred my subscription to this. They told me I would be getting Details instead which was fine -- vapid consumer info but lots of nice glossy photos of cute boys in cute clothes. But Maxim? Maybe the Metrosexual movement has died. I guess straight guys are back to being incredibly annoying and stupid, making women objects and wearing incredibly ugly clothes that give you no idea whether or not they have a cute ass.

1:06 p.m. -- Not having time to give more thought to this social corundum, I am alert and focused again at my work station for a Skype call to Ecuador.


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