blog, dave, morning, mum, worst, eight

Almost time for this little blog to close its doors so I return to what I never left which is signing in when my head's buzzing with no clear thoughts and writing what pops up and being equal parts surprised embarrassed pleased that you all give a look in.

Dave walks in and we have a pleasant little exchange he and I. Last week! he says is it? I say and we laugh because god knows I have been looking at this day with the shiny hopeful eyes of the nearly baptized since early June. He gets it and I wonder if Dave knows that he's the only one in this building that kept me on good terms with human kind this year. I'll tell him that before I leave, I'll write it somewhere, because I twist the spoken word too tight.

We got up early this morning and had coffee before work; there was a good amount of time to sit and talk and enjoy the coldest morning I can think of in San Francisco. The ferry and its terminal are crisp white beautiful and the seagulls prance around like they own the place. Having a morning before work is novel and lovely. Feels more like life. Man oh man we can do what we want.

My mom today: "I don't want to sound like your mother, but...". What?

Phoning Mike on our respective UCSF phones is knock-down-drag-out my favorite thing to do at work. When that phone rings and I'm expecting 49755 and I see 53987 instead, my heart does a tiny dance in its own throat and I know I'm in for a treat. I love how the conversations can be about the most significant things going on amongst our circle of friends, or about how he CANNOT FATHOM how phones operate without switchboards anymore, or about me yakking on for three to four full minutes before I realize that he's gchatting with Lees and not listening to me. I love how a 20-minute conversation can end mid-sentence with 'gottagobye' and how invariably as I reach to return the receiver to its cradle I can still hear Mike ranting about friendship and decency and calling me THE WORST. You are! The best of the worst of the best JM.

I started this around 10am today and now it's 6pm. Eight hours is a working day. Four more of these left. Number 9, number 9, number 9.