I don’t know how I feel about being in an office again.

The last one I worked at was populated by four people named John, Mike, Greg, and John and I still maintain that that was the best joke I never wrote. Two and a half hours after I started working I finished working and I exited into the joy that is the first beautiful day of the year. I love that day where it first gets warm and people go out and smile as they enjoy weather and life. I went to a dark movie theater and sat alone as I watched Battle: Los Angeles while eating my leftover vegan sampler that I snuck in via a plastic bag I got from a bodega.

It was the second day in a row that I worked in an office. This time my day had extended to four hours. I hadn’t eaten lunch, but having just found out that my bank account was significantly in the red, I attempted to postpone what my stomach was growling at me to not postpone. It was raining and I had to pee. Ready to continue the being a part of the warm weather, I had worn a light shirt with no hat or umbrella, so I ducked out of the rain and into a bar. There I could use the bathroom. Two birds, one stone. The bartender grumpily told me where I could urinate. There were two people at the bar: A woman doing her taxes while she was in a suit and a man with an eyepatch. It was very silly.

Battle: Los Angeles was very silly. I just wanted a safe place to eat my constantly cooling quinoa and kale. I wanted a safe place to make up alliterations about leftovers that only quite make sense. A movie about how important military spending is was not the safe place for me to do the “elitist” things that the Right wants me to feel self conscious about.

The bathroom didn’t lock, barely even closed. Then I looked around me and was confused as to how this bathroom should be used. Despite no sink, there were three toilets. Two were urinals. There was no stall around the sit down toilet and the room was far too small to share with a shitter. As I tried to choose a urinal, I loud hammering began three feet above my head and chards of ceiling started falling into the urinal.

When I had entered the movie theater I was greeted by a man who wanted to see some other movie. I would tell you the movie, but I couldn’t understand what he said when he drunkenly yell-mumbled his intentions at me.

The hammering continued. I think there was a man in the ceiling banging on a metal pipe with a metal pipe.

It’s more interesting outside the office.