Sleeping

Last night as I was falling asleep I suddenly had the thought, What is sleeping for? What if I've forgotten how to sleep? Watched night turn to dawn before exhaustion took me down. When I got into the office, the New Man was already in his office. This morning he at least had the decency to have his door open so that nobody would be surprised. "Come in and sit down," he said. I sat in the chair closest to the door because on the back of the other chair he'd draped his Speedo inside out, displaying the the flesh colored liner. He caught me looking. I had a horrified look on my face--I felt it, my eyes wide open, mouth pulled down. "I swim in the mornings," he explianed "Me too," I said before I realized what I was saying. "Really?" "Oh yes, I love swimming." That part was true. "I've made a list of artists for you to research so we can decide who to have come to our lecture series. He pushed the list across the desk. One nice thing about the Boss was that he didn't expect anyone to do any real work. I picked up the list and flipped through it. "What kind of research do you want me to do?" "Oh, you know, bios, images, you know, I'm sure you've done this sort of thing before." I nodded and got up to leave. I shut the office door behind me and took the list out to my desk. The Contessa was just getting in. She put her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk and turned on her computer. "He's here already?" I nodded. "I don't think he's cute at all," I said. "He had his Speedo drying on a chair." I shuddered. "I don't think he's cute either. Anymore. I wonder what he looks like in his Speedo?" I stared at the hateful list. This was not difficult work. It might even be interesting work if I allowed it to be, but the sight of the list filled me with despair. "He seems divorced." the Contessa said, finishing up a conversation she'd apparently been having with herself. I opened up the internet. Was greeted by a headline about the melting of the permafrost. Read the article up until the part that said, "the methane trapped in the permafrost will be released, accelerating global warming." Quickly exited firefox. Mourned loss of crush. Romeo (the copy machine guy) came in. "Hi," the Contessa said, "the machine is jamming." Romeo nodded. "I brought you olives." He produced a jar. "I made them at home." The Contessa took the jar and set it on her desk. "I can't wait to try one," she said in a lying kind of way. Romeo waited, his hands behind his back. She opened the jar, took an olive out. She looked scared. She put the olive in her mouth and chewed. She got a thoughtful look on her face. "Delicious." She reached for another. Romeo beamed.