Xtina left today and I am hella bummed. Actually, throat-choked, just-saw-a-dead-kitten is closer, 'cause this is it, y'alls: no more lunch hour chats about A.E. Housman & Steve Albini, no more mental hangman, no more impromptu waltzing around the kitchen, no more Faygo cans and Utena and deeply serious fights about High Art, riot grrrl, and keeping the back door open. It feels like I got divorced. Her red 10-speed is still parked in the driveway and I have never seen an inanimate object smirk so hard.
Apparently, some higher power is trying to tell me that no, it is not morally okay to use the DVD player in my office to watch Songs for Cassavetes when I should be working, seeing as how the girl from the repairs lab whose name I cannot remember keeps interrupting and I have to pause the Peechees in mid-rock-out. I feel bad b/c she needs to let a researcher into the vault and I can't help her, as I am a lowly assistant and have no keys to the vault/city/castle.
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