feburary 19, 2010
i wake up sick. 
i have whatever mims had.
make myself breakfast of oatmeal with side bowl of cut up banana and blueberries with scoop of peanut butter. trader joe’s valencia peanut butter with roasted flaxseeds and sea salt. orange juice. tea.
watch LOST episodes in my pajamas.
lunch: mims makes my kale and potato puree into some soup. he also gives me a ricotta and chicken taco with arugula.
lots of nose blowing.
i get a call about an art director gig for the following weekend. it sounds awesome, but i’m already booked for a different project next weekend. i take time to decide what to do a decide to go with the big, exciting project because i need it on my resume more. it’s a good project.
all of the back and forth of deciding wears me out. i had to back out of a friend’s project to take the big one. i replace myself and everyone seems happy, but the whole situation makes me feel blah. even though i’m excited about the new project, i feel ambivalent about my art director career. i get like one internet video a month if i’m lucky. i just want a job. i just want a shitty job to hate. there is an LA Metro billboard ad near my house that shows a dude wearing a tie, in a cubicle and it says, “I M (metro symbol) to the daily grind.” I looked at that and thought, yeah, daily grind. that sounds good.
mims tells me he is going out to the new eagle rock brewery with brian. i am pouty because i’m sick and can’t go. he is working in the kitchen on his laptop when i ask about dinner. he says he’s not hungry and leaving in a half hour. i frown. so much for special sick treatment. i get some cheese and bread and go back to watching tv.
mims decides he should make me pasta before he goes after all. we eat and brian comes over. we talk about work and pets and tell him a story about our cat snoring.
they leave and i watch more LOST.
from the living room i see movement in the kitchen. it’s the monkey balloon. it’s casting a shadow. it’s moving across the room. (willy brought over a big balloon that is a monkey wearing boxer shorts with hearts on them. that was weeks ago and it’s still tapping our ceiling.)
mims comes home. he smells like booze. we smooch. we go to bed.
