Daisy Glaze

Ok, let's recap the 4th of July: I did nothing. Now, on to the 5th, my birthday. I spent the first part of the day shopping. I treated myself to a Sherlock Holmes anthology and bought a shirt and a pair of flip-flops at Old Navy. I hit Trader Joe's somewhere in between and went back home where I watched the next to last episode of Rome and loved it so much I held off watching the last episode. I hope to do so tonight, though it will be bittersweet. There will be a month wait until season two comes out. It already seems decades away.

Last night, I went out to dinner with Spira, Luke Warm, and Michael. We went to Dali's, a wonderful Spanish restaurant in Cambridge. We had a table full of tapas, which included cheese balls in a sweet sauce, tasty ribs, lamb in an almond and mint sauce, and scallops. A perfect birthday dinner.

I returned to work today and even though it was relatively quiet, we didn't miss out on our daily bit of catastrophe. Tantrums were thrown, orders were inaccurate, customers arrived in clumps right at the end of the day---the usual. I can't complain too much, because it's a short week and after tomorrow, I'll have another two days off.

I came home from work today and talked with Rich for a spell. He pointed to the back door and there, on the floor to the right of it, was a bottle of Fresca that looked to be half full ( or empty, if you maintain a negative outlook). I had noticed the bottle there yesterday when I was coming up from the basement. It occurred to me that the contents of the bottle resembled piss more than Fresca. I quickly shrugged off the notion. Why would someone leave a bottle of piss in a highly visible area?

Well, Rich informed me that Bob TV had told him when he moved in that sometimes, when the bathroom is occupied, he'll rush into the kitchen and swipe an empty bottle off the top of the fridge and piss in it. He even told Rich where he leaves the bottle, which so happened to be the spot where the Fresca bottle resided.

I puzzled over why, with the garbage cans only a few steps from the back door, didn't Bob TV take those goddamned steps and throw his bottle of piss away, instead of leaving it on the floor for all to see. And this isn't the first incident, either. I'd seen another bottle in the same location a few months ago, but convinced myself that Bob TV had just left a bottle of soda lying around. Anyway, what a sick fuck. I don't object to the idea of a piss bottle---do what you've gotta do---but I strenuously object to it being displayed in the common areas of the house like a bowling trophy.

I will most definitely have to confront Bob TV about this, and knowing him as I do, will have to explain to him why it's not a good thing to be leaving a bottle of urine around. In a lot of ways, I'll miss Bob TV when he moves, but I will not miss his methods of relocating his waste. Between molting all over the stairs, bleeding on the sofa, and now this, I wouldn't be surprised to find a pile of scat in the corner of our dining room. Hey, why not? If you've got to go, you've got to go.

One last thing about this pissing business. Apparently, Bob TV had told Rich, his new roommate, that the reason he sometimes pissed in bottles was because someone would be in the bathroom when he needed it. Now, he lives with two guys who do not spend an excessive length of time in the bathroom. Couldn't he hold it in?

I talked with her today. I feel smitten, confused, frustrated, scared, hopeful, excited-- the gamut. I hope clarity will hit sometime soon, when my direction is clear, when I take definitive steps in some direction, and something good comes out of it. I'm actually surprised I had forgotten that affairs of the heart are hardly simple affairs. Well, damnit if I don't remember now.