Warning Signs

(This is actually from Thursday, I just didn't post in order. For those of you interested in narrative flow. Or something like that.)

You know how I know that I’ve been here too long? Here’s how:

We had a meeting today with some people from the lending agency today. We sat there for the better part of two hours, the guys and TL talking almost the whole time, me piping up when I could manage to get a word in, and people only directing their questions to TL. This wasn’t entirely inappropriate, because he knows more about the history of the project and the tiny details. But even the topics which I’ve been doing the most work on, I barely managed to say anything. I seldom have a problem getting my opinions out, for those of you who don’t know me. Needless to say, this didn’t feel like the best use of my time. So, after everyone left, TL said something about how they might meet up again tonight at the hotel, and I asked if he wanted me to be there. He said something to the effect of I was welcome to be there, but if I didn’t want to go, I didn’t have to. And I said something to the effect of “well, since no one was terribly interested in what I had to say this afternoon, if I’m just going to sit there and be decorative again, I’d prefer to skip it.”

I can’t believe I said that. I really can’t.

TL seemed to take it in stride, though.

I went running the other night, and it was getting really hot and stuffy in the ladies’ gym, so I took off my t-shirt, and kept running in my sports bra and leggings, which I’ve never done before here. There’s nothing scandalous about this particular outfit, but knowing how things are here, I would never dream of going out in public like that, with bare arms and a bare midsection. So the guy who works there decides THAT’S the time he’s going to come in with a towel for me. Great. I was completely startled and almost fell off the stinkin’ treadmill, and unfortunately didn’t have the presence of mind to ask him what the hell he was doing there and tell him to GET OUT. It wouldn’t surprise me, though, if someone was “monitoring” the ladies’ gym, because they’ve never really cared before about whether or not I had a towel. Odd that they would pick that time, ya know what I mean?

Ick.

One of many reasons why I will be glad to get the heck out of here. Good Lord. This is what all that repression leads to, I tell you.

U2 is playing on my computer right now (happy times), and RealPlayer ™ likes to put up little snippets about the artist(s) in question as the music is playing. Apparently, there was a 5^th member of U2 back in the day. He left the band in 1977 to form his own band – The Virgin Prunes.

In the words of the knight from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade: You chose…poorly.