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My Imagination is Gettin' Outta Hand

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Every few months at work I have to take the mail down to the mailroom in the afternoon. On the way there, I have to walk down this really LOOONG, quiet, clean smellin' hallway. Its silence is deafening.




As I mozy down this hall, I imagine that I am in a huge high rise building and just outside is the noisy hustle and bustle of New York City. Yeah, I imagine this EVERYDAY.

It gets even more ridiculous than that though....

I have to take the freight elevator down to the mail room. Access to the elevator is behind a non conspicuous door and behind that non conspicuous door is a little room where you wait for the elevator. Normally, I have to stand in this tiny little room for a few minutes waiting for the elevator to come up. While I'm waiting, I think about how much it would cost to rent a room that size in New York City and if I could manage living in a space that small. According to Ikea you can functionally live in any sized space if you just shop at their store, so I've decided I totally could with the help of Ikea. (That is of course in a complete alternate reality of my life actually is or ever would be).

As I stand in that little room and wait for the elevator, I think of where my bed would be. I could fit a chair and a little table and there's even enough room for a sink and toilet as long as you don't mind spinning around to get to the bathroom opposed to walking to it. There would definitely be no room for a kitchen, but I am in New York City after all and where else in the world is there better food?

I am retarded over New York. RETARDED I tell you. OBSESSED.

.....I wrote this several weeks back. It's pretty lame, but there's a lot of lame shit that I write and never actually post. Plus, since I wrote this my New York fantasies have slacked a little because there's ALWAYS somebody walkin' down that long hall. ALWAYS! How the hell am I supposed to pretend I'm in New York when I got some Kennesaw Claw havin', white pump wearin' chick walkin' behind me whistlin' Dixie????

Yeah, well....nonetheless, thought I would come back to this one though because today when I took the mail, and I was standing in that little room waiting on the elvator I saw a cheeto on the floor. I thought "Awww hell no....somebody's all trashin' up my tiny little New York apartment". I mean really, how the hell do you drop a cheeto and not pick it up?

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