A Lunch Deferred

While I was making myself lunch this afternoon there was a knock on the door. Still in my pajamas, I went to investigate.

Standing outside was a man holding a nozzle attached to a wheeled contraption. "Are you here for the washing machine?" I asked, hopeful. (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the appliance guys who came over last week were unable to fix the microwave or the washing machine.) "No, exterminator."

I had plumb forgot. I led him in and he started spraying his liquid roach poison willy-nilly. Along the kitchen counter top, under the cabinets, along the bathroom wall. All in all it took less than a minute.

"Is it toxic?" I asked.

"Only a little," he said.

"Is it ok with the food?" I motioned to the elaborate (for me anyway) lunch I had been cooking myself of chicken and arugula beet salad topped with shallot vinaigrette, pistachios, and goat cheese.

"Yes, of course! Your food smells good. It's like my uncle said to my sister after tasting her cooking: 'You are ready to marry.' So you are ready to marry!" This cracked him up and he left laughing.

I stood there looking at my nearly finished lunch. I didn't want any of it anymore.

I have an unfounded aversion to poisons and toxins. Well, founded in that they're poisonous but unfounded in that I sometimes become convinced food I'm eating is no good for no reason. I can't clean with bleach because I'll think I'm inhaling too much or it's stuck on my hands (through the gloves?) and I'll get it in my eyes or something. For the fourth of July, I was at a friends barbecue in Prospect Park and I saw a container of lighter fluid next to the grill. I was certain the grill master had, accidentally, poured lighter fluid all over the food he was preparing. To reiterate: there was absolutely no reason for me to think this. I didn't even see him pick it up while I was there.

So you can imagine that as I watched this man come in here and spray his liquid poison wand in the same tiny room as my food was being prepared, my toxic alarm bells immediately went off. I kept my composure. I finished cooking and cleaned up everything. I prepared my plate of food. I texted my mom what happened. I ate two bites. She wrote back "How could u eat after that". I put my fork down, put the leftovers in a tupperware, and stuck it in the fridge for when I decide to let logic rule my decision making again. I went to the grocery store and bought sushi.

This afternoon I went to the HBO offices for an informational meeting, i.e. not an interview but my friend Maya hooked me up with a chat with someone in their PR department. She was very helpful. She had a giant poster of Winter's Bone in her office and casually mentioned that she was an editor on that film. She was also surprised I'm 24; I fear I'm developing a worn, haggard look with dark bags under my eyes and a world-weary gaze. I hope it's my mature and stoic air that consistently deceives people into thinking I'm older.

I went to the HBO retail shop downstairs after the meeting and perused their selection of $20 mugs. It is at least 80% Game of Thrones in there.

Speaking of which... I posted my Game of Thrones theory on Reddit and it sparked just the sort of discussion I hoped it would. Let the record show that I only use Reddit for /r/asoaif.

I went to see a UCB sketch show tonight with Angelo and he told me he liked the improv ones better. Good! A man after my own heart.