So, it's official: I broke Nathan's chair. Nathan, for those of you who just tuned in, is the guy whose job I am doing while he romps around in sunny Liberia. For the rest of you, he's still that guy. (Tell me the wording of that phrase never annoyed anybody else.) Anyway, it's actually really funny. See, four years ago Nathan bought a desk chair because Cityview had not yet answered his request for one and his old chair sucked. So then he attempted to get reimbursed, albeit not as aggressively as some people might, continually for four years. At one point the chair broke and it was fixed here, and still he had not seen the money. Three days before he left for vacation last month he got a call from the new Administrator and she said she was working on the reimbursement. He did not seem excited, as he had heard this tall tale before. Then, three days after he left, while I, the white woman, was in charge, the check came in. We laughed our butts off down here in the basement. It's in the filing cabinet, waiting for his return. But now the chair is dead again and he will just have to use that money to buy a new one. Will he get reimbursed again?? Probably not, since they will wonder why he needs another chair after only a month, because corporate people are not so smart, as we all know. Wow. We are having a knee-slapping laugh over this!

I can't believe I just told you all that. It's really not because I don't have anything to say. I have a ton of things to talk about. . . Noah, real job issues, school issues, funny Jaime stories, issues with Andy's parents, ruminations on life, the universe and everything. I have a plethora of potential subjects on which to pontificate. And here I sit, recounting a tale about a chair which, and let's be honest here, is never going to amuse anyone as much as it does me and the basement crew. They're a strange bunch of guys, and it worries me that I fit in so well. Then again, I fit in with my college town friends and, honesty again, they're a strange bunch too. Come to think of it, all my bunches are. There should be a better word for that, for "bunch." Like a murder of crows, you know? Nicholas and I once decided that the proper term for a group of philosophers was a trouble. A trouble of philosophers. It fits. Anyway, a better word for groups of people that actually hang out with Amanda on a fairly regular basis (or at least would if she lived in a less than 100 mile radius) is going to be . . . a koan. A koan of friends. Also applicable when referring to more than one particular group, as in my college koan and my high school koan are collectively also a koan. I like the linguistic possibilities there. And the underlying irony also. Hee hee. I am so silly. This is possibly the single most useless entry I have ever written. But I didn't think I was even going to get a chance to write in here today, so that's better than nothing, wouldn't you say?

One real point: I gave Noah the option to read this, after much thought on the matter. I told him my username (he already knew of its general existence) and he said that he would rather let me have this space. He said he'd like to read it, yes, but feels it would be better not to. That was the right answer I think. I tell him everything anyway, it's not like I'm hiding anything. But it is kind of a good feeling to know that there is at least one person I know who is certainly not reaing this. I didn't mean for that to sound so conceited. I don't think everyone I know reads this. It's just that most of the people I know do have knowledge of its existence, and are therefore potential readers. He's not. Get it? I guess I don't either, really.