I ate my reheated lentil soup in the tech services area talking union talk with A. and R, my office having flooded earlier in the day. It has been a long semester. I am ready for a break.

I love the socialist kindershule and found myself unexpectedly moved by O.’s participation in the alef poem recitation. It was all very sweet and very socialist, which meant very disorganized and very delayed. No food until nearly 2:30, save for the latkes K. sneaked me during the pageant so I wouldn’t lose my mind.

I went for my long run, came home, ate ramen at the table before heading out to the protest in Manhattan. It really is a dreadful world in so many ways, this ramen thankfully not being one of them.

I decided I had just enough time between therapy and my haircut to come home and eat a bowl of soup in between. I ate and read my magazine, another one about running, I can’t read enough about running, I can’t run enough. To feel this way even after the marathon, well, I am pretty lucky.

I didn’t get to my reheated chili until after the faculty meeting at 3:30 at which point I inhaled it in my office, grousing about the terrible, terrible day. All of it was terrible.

I met M. at the Smashburger and I had my usual and it was great as was the company although, wow, it would be great to be able to talk about something else, to have all those shenanigans resolved. But maybe it’s all just those shenanigans, there isn’t anything else, that’s the work, to stay in the room while they on all around us.

By Tuesday I was ready to never eat chili again. I should have put it all in the freezer. Instead I ate it. It’s what I brought for lunch.


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