I hate dirty dishes in the sink when I have a hangover. Especially when I have to get up early for the first shift. And the fucking garbage. We can get out a new bag and set it next to the bin in the kitchen but not carry it outside. Of course after work I’ll probably end up out at the Handle Bar or The Office and won’t get back till late and I’ll head straight for bed and won’t even notice this. Until tomorrow morning again. Maybe I won’t be so hung over but it’ll smell worse.
Dagny keeps saying maybe she should come out. I don’t think she’s doing all that well alone back home. I say, “Hey, go out with your friends.” Like I do here — only I don’t say that. She says, “My friends are half the problem.” And I miss her, damn. Especially when my roommate keeps hitting on girls when we’re out. It’s like, there are only six girls out here. I think the smart ones have all run away to Fargo or somewhere. Probably in college, especially if they’re smart. But my roommate finds the rest, along with twenty other lonely guys. But he has all the luck. Makes me miss Dagny.
I guess I’ve fooled around once or twice. Those nights, they’re usually the ones where we’re doing shots or something and I can’t remember too well. That’s what I say, anyway, when I think about fooling around. Maybe I try not to remember it. Well, one girl I was just with her because she reminded me of Dagny a lot. I was thinking about Dagny the whole time, at least. Maybe she’s right, though. It might be better to have her out here.
But, shit, what would she say about this fucking mess? I’m making good money out here, way better than I could back in Jericho. But sometimes I think, for what? Especially when I get up and I’m hung over like this and I come out in the kitchen and see all this shit piled up everywhere. I’m making good money so I can live in a pile of shit. And have my wife living two hundred miles away. I’m supposed to be lucky to have gotten this job. Explain that one to me again.