mlle. h. bean

Christmas Eve. It started snowing today, while I was at work*. The window of the kitchen (we're on the second floor) overlooks some road, and some hotels, and I could see people driving by in small version all day, through the snow. It was like watching dinkies, because we're overlooking a corner with traffic lights. Watching this kind of thing is an entirely different car-watching experience than a plain highway.

(Jess' apartment in the North End, which was on the third floor and smelled of garbage, cat pee and cigarettes. I was staying there for March Break. The windows had deep sills that you could sit on, wide enough for a bum and a blanket, and it overlooked the busy intersection of North and Agricola. I would sit for ages in this one window, with my journal open in my lap, and the cat sitting there too, watching the green light up, the cars go, then the yellow and then the red, and they'd stop and then those other ones would go. It was mindless, not like driving the same roads at all, I never thought about it, the pattern of the flow. Like TV only it doesn't rot your brain quite so much. This was in the spring, this was in a time of warm wet, and small winds. Not like right now at all.)

I have tomorrow off. I can't wait to sleep in tomorrow, wake up and laze around like I used to, before when I was unemployed. I can see myself 'forgetting' to go over to Brio tonight. Sink into my bed with my book. How hermetic of me. (Like those jars, right Jess?)

I like having a job. I really do. Even if it makes my feet hurt. Even if the food is so tempting yet also not so great for you.

Happy Christmas to all of you.

* This is not the first snow of the season, mind you. It's really not a big deal, except that hey, it's Christmas Eve, and snow is nice and you know, ambient.