Joseph Addison

          I got more sleep this time, and left for work feeling worlds better. Even temporarily, living in IV is a surreal exercise in tiny fragments of nostalgia and forgotten details. I'm in a room on 11F West, and the view is exactly what it was in my 9F days -- looking out on the police station with all its blinding lights and the shadowy park nearby. I'd forgotten how far it seemed to stretch, all the way out to the hills on the horizon, broken up with church steeples and dappled by some of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. Other little memories came up out of the cracks: washing dishes in the bathroom sink, the booming clack of the magnetic lock, the speedy elevators, the hotel atmosphere. Work itself was an experience, as Jeremy had me travel out to Dedham to file a complaint in the Norfolk Superior Court. I rode the Orange Line out to Forest Hills and hopped a convenient 34/Dedham Line bus.
          According to Google, I was supposed to ride the bus for 18 minutes or so and get off at #35 on a particularly long street. I had only been riding for a few minutes when I noticed that the numbers were in the hundreds and climbing. After some dithering over what I should do, I chose to hop off the bus at a random location and catch one back toward Forest Hills to try again, since I didn't want to find myself even more lost in this unfamiliar area. Just as I did so, I stopped to take a breath and realized that the numbers had just started over, which meant that I had to walk the rest of the way (from #35 to somewhere in the 200s). This led to a long, unpleasant walk along a bare highway, and it was a blessing when I finally arrived in Dedham proper. I mistakenly went to the District Court and was directed to the proper one. After a brief wait, I was given some recommendations by the clerk and I was on my way.
          A long walk back to the bus stop ended in sorrow when one passed me by, despite the fact that I was waiting at the designated spot. I traveled a little farther to another stop and waited for what felt like forever, reading Cold Mountain to pass the time. This is a tale of a wounded Confederate soldier after the Civil War, and was mildly interesting as far as I got, if not gripping. The trip back to the office was uneventful, as was the rest of my shift, which I spent sending out random faxes. Jeremy also referenced Back To the Future III while on the phone with a client, which warmed my heart. I made a foolish mistake when I left for home, dropping three quarters from my wallet just after swiping my CharlieCard; I stooped to pick them up, bending to force of habit, and the doors closed, forcing me to spend another $2.00 in fare for my trouble. I napped for a few hours in the lobby of IV while Shandana was still at work. Later, Iris and I looked through Restaurant Week menus -- during which time I expertly called P.E.I. mussels as Prince Edward Island when even she, the foodie, didn't know what they were -- and watched some Colbert Report and Daily Show, though John Oliver is slightly disappointing as usual.
          Quote of the day:
"They're gonna shit the bed when they get this. Imagine living in Canada and getting a summons for a hearing in Boston." - Jeremy