A Little Variety

Monday.

It's finally Monday. I know most people don't say that, as they hate Monday's, but I had spent the rest of the weekend by myself, and at this point I am ready to see anyone. I am almost excited to be going into work.

I stop by my boss' office before going to my desk. He looks at me with concern.
"All okay?"
"Yeah, sorry. I had a rough end of the week. Thank you for being so understanding about the past couple of days."
He smiles, "Of course. You really are a hard worker. Sometimes we all need a break."
"Well, thanks," I say and then ask if he needs anything.

He shakes his head and just tells me that he'll phone if he needs anything later.

I go to my desk and think about how great it is to have this job. Unlike so many other New York jobs, even ones that I have had before, my boss is incredibly understanding. I think it's because he is from Europe, where people tend to value the work life balance a bit more.

I sit at my desk and log onto my computer. Since I have missed a couple of days of work, there are a lot of e-mails to catch up on and the day seems to go by relatively quickly.

Since it's Monday, I know that I won't see Matt tonight, so we only text back and forth a bit during the day. He is still so tied up in preparations for the Con. Luckily, him and his friends are going this weekend, so after that, he should have more time. Though, I don't really know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I am still seesawing between taking a break and just forging forward with the relationship.

Matt surprisingly had asked me if I had wanted to go to the Con, which I sort of did. I have always thought events like that looked like a lot of fun. But, I was worried that if I went, he would go off with his friends and leave me to my own devices, and I'd have no idea what to do or where to go, so I ultimately decided against it.

This means another weekend of trying to figure out what the heck I want to do on my own. I really need to pick up a hobby or something, but I never quite had the knack for anything that kept my mind busy.

Before my boss leaves for the day, he stops by my desk.
"I hate to ask this last minute, but our event planner cancelled on us. Would it be at all possible for you to work this weekend?"
I smile, now realizing I don't have to make plans. And since I missed a couple of days last week, I definitely don't mind helping my boss out.
"Oh sure, that's fine with me," I say.
He breaths out a sigh of relief. "Are you sure? I know you probably had a bunch of plans or something, but I really have no idea what to do."
"It's fine, seriously. I didn't really have anything going on," I chuckle, though think it's kind of sad that I am telling the truth.
"Okay, great. I owe you one. It's this Saturday from 7:00PM-12:00AM at the new Whitney. You will get paid overtime for this."

That's even greater news. I can always use the extra money to pay the astronomical rent here in the city.

"What do you need me to do?" I ask, suddenly aware that I have signed up for something that I know nothing about.
"I need someone there to just be my helper for the evening," he says.
"Okay, yeah that's fine."
"Just wear something business formal, please."
"Got it," I affirm.

I feel a big rush of relief that I will have something to do this weekend. And that I will get paid for it. I also am sort of excited to get a little dressed up for the occasion. I haven't yet been to the new museum, so I figure I can spend the earlier part of the day there before the event starts.

After speaking to my boss, I finish up a little bit more work, and then pack up my bag to head home. I realize that I haven't gotten any messages from the guy all weekend, or the entire day today, and feel a little pang of angst, but remind myself that even considering what he said about whatever it is going on between us; I really have no claim to feel this way.

On my way to the subway, I drop my wallet on the ground as I wrestle for my MetroCard. When I get up from picking it up, I slam into someone.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I start apologizing.
"God, watch where you're going," a tall, beautiful, dark haired girl, sneers at me. She is clutching the arm of an equally good-looking guy, who laughs at my misfortune.
"Sorry, sorry," I quickly apologize while staring after them. I snap out of it and rush down the steps to catch my train home.

I am lucky to find a seat on the subway, and try and collect my things as the train pulls out of the station.