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the red tag From my erratic if not incomplete updates here, one might get the impression that I've run out of things to say. Well, all that I can say in response to that impression is that it isn't true. Between school, work and my private life, I'm just so incredibly busy that I am finding it hard to take a moment to put some if any of those things into words. In fact I should either be doing my homework for tomorrow or trying to sleep. Spending time online has moved down the priority ladder. To better illustrate how limited my time is lately, I'll do a quick laundry list of the day's events up to this point. My day started last night and obviously continued into this morning. Or you could say that my Tuesday has yet to end since I haven't slept for more than an hour since last night. Naturally work occupied my time from midnight to eight this morning. Generally speaking the night was tolerable. All that I had to do was endure a new update from Chatterbox on his life. I didn't ask for one, but I got one anyway. Yes, I know that I sound incredibly cruel, but his stories do tend to run long if not loop back on themselves. Plus they aren't that interesting and I could live without the extra attention to detail, but so it goes. I also should also point out that I don't talk about my private life at work unless I feel like it. Actually for the most part the only person who does get that side of my life is Nicole. I had hoped to leave work on time, but spent another fifteen minutes or so talking with another coworker about the Windsor documentary that I saw the other night on television. When I got home at quarter to nine I quickly decided that sleep was more important than food. Apparently I was right since when the doorbell rang at quarter after ten, I was completely taken by surprise. I then stumbled out of bed, put some shorts on and answered the door. Standing outside in the heat was my charming blonde mail carrier. Her first words were: You must work third shift? Me: (squinting into the light) Yes. Her: Um, you have to sign for this package? I sign it and she says: Can you fall back asleep? Me: Yes. I am a man of many words after being woken up out of a one hour sleep. Oh, the package by the way was my copy of season five of The X-Files on DVD, which came from Hong Kong. I might have time to watch that later this weekend. ... Eleven thirty must have come and gone, because the next time that I saw the clock it was noon and that was not a good thing. Usually I leave for school shortly after noon, which led to some mild swearing on my part at myself. Then in an instant I was in the shower in an effort to get rid of my newly created bed head and hope that the water would revive me at the same time. It worked or at the very least I was pumped by the time that I sat down in my seat in class. Maybe driving to the east side of Milwaukee in a fraction of the usual time than I usually do had something to do with it as well. ... Now the other day I said that there weren't any people in class that interested me. Well, that wasn't completely true. There is Sarah and Samantha, both of whom sit next to me or maybe I sit next to them depending on the point of view. This afternoon when Sarah took her seat directly in front of me, I couldn't help noticing something. Peeking out above the waist of her jeans was a small red tag that I am guessing was attached to her underwear and not her jeans. Now maybe for some people that might be a small thing, but I kept focusing on it every time that she moved in her chair. It always moved when she moved. Then one time she reached back and almost pushed it back down into her jeans, but missed. If I knew her I might have reached forward and tucked it in for her, but I didn't. Of course if I wanted to get her attention right away that would be one way to do it. Then again that might be breaking more than one social protocol of polite behavior. To put it another way, if that had happened to Nicole, I would have had no problem with grabbing her, tucking it into her jeans and saying something like hey keep your underwear in your pants. Instead of doing anything rash, I spent twenty to thirty minutes trying to think what I should say to her. I had to find some way to bring it to her attention without offending her or coming across as a freak. "Hey, I was just staring at your ass and noticed that your panties were creeping up. What else can you show me?" No. "Um, I can tell by the way that you dress that you obviously care about your appearance, so I thought that you should know that a tag is hanging out in back above your jeans." Too timid or serious. After weighing many possibilities I tapped her on the shoulder and she leaned back to hear what I had to say. "This might sound odd, but you have a tag showing above your jeans." Her response. "Oh, is it red? I couldn't tell if it was sticking out or not, so I kept trying to pull my shirt down to cover it. Thanks." Sigh. Cool, calm and collected. She was so casual about it, which I saw as a good thing. Then again was she wondering if I would notice it? ... That my friends has been my day up until five thirty this afternoon. Somewhere in the next few hours, I'll need to eat, do my homework, get some sleep, shower and then go back to work.
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