The office atmosphere today is weirdly tense, which I don’t quite understand. It might have to do with it being painfully slow. Got my “Better look busy” face on.

Yesterday I got an email from my friend Dule, who recently moved to Zurich to take a laboratory job. His email made me jealous. It was basically: “Gosh, the job is great, but we haven’t been doing much work because it’s summer and no one does much work here in the summer and I’ve been swimming in the lake every day and the temperature is perfect.” Seriously. I just want to live in Paris. I want Charlotte Rampling to be my neighbor from across the hall. We can take little weekend trips to the seashore in the summer. Andy can work at one of the libraries. American archives division. I’ll maintain a bisteringly witty blog that’s filled with sly observations, sort of a running anti-Sedaris chronicle. 

I’m torn this evening between doing “work” (i.e. writing, writing work, etc. etc.) and doing … very little. Last Tuesday night, doing very little consisted of watching hours of “The Jeffersons” and “Sanford and Son.” Andy will be at class.