All Smiles

Nov. 13, 2008

Today I ran five miles in the slush, counting each puff of fog out of my mouth. I got to work a few minuetes before nine and brew some stingers talking with Karl in his cave. Karl's wife would turn a new shade of red if she knew the thread he spun. At about 11, my boss, bad breath and all, dumped a new record of files on my desk, citing shit deadline talk for comfort. God, I thought the last workload was heavy. Lunch came and went and I found myself sneaking fountain breaks across from Rhonda's cubicle. She smelled like the first day of school and looked like a vintage pinup--her retro phase has carved its way into my heart. I brain stutter just thinking about how bumbly I would be trying to talk to her. It's bound to happen with all the damn fountain drinks I'm getting. She must think I'm a horse. By four I'd made my daily calls and lazed on the internet for the next thirty. Karl, as he does, harrassed me just before five about hitting Sherlock's later. It was definately the kind of day that requires a night of drinking. I passed Rhonda on the way out and gave her one of those big-eye nods. I don't think she saw it though. The boys began piling in at Sherlocks at a quarter to six and the rounds began. I ordered a burger and fries and tried to eat while the others poured in beer after beer. Gus came by and pointed out some girls that looked like the he/she's over on 5th. But that didn't stop Reggie and his band of heathens to buy 'um drinks. I drank two beers and slipped out the front door before the sloppiness hit its peak. Karl and I drove to Darren's and caught the second half of the Monday Night blowout. Darren spent an hour looking for the number of a 'sure thing.' I had one Sam Adams and went home.

It ended up being one of those days where I tell myself I'm not as bad off as it appears. It's now been eighteen months since Kate and the empty spot seems bigger than ever. I grab beers with the boys and fantasize about Rhonda but I'm slipping off the edge on the inside. I wish I wouldn't have said those things to Kate. Like Liz on 30 Rock, I need a do-over. Maybe tomarrow will be better. Maybe I'll call Kate. Maybe I will.

Scott Snider
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