Monday Morning

Susan suffers another mishap with copy machine--cry for help takes form of string of bad words (pearls and impressive outfit on day of Susan's interview apparently deceptive--unsure whether meant to deceive or merely taught that one Dresses Up for interviews. If this the case, then deception condoned by society and Susan herself not at fault. Wish, strongly, that could pursue train of thought about deception and its causes instead of having to see what has gone wrong with the copy machine.) Go back to copier room investigate. Says in exited tone that she knows I don't like to deal with the copy machine so was trying to load the toner herself. Alleges that she watched me very carefully last time. Not carefully enough--toner on floor and down side of machine. Susan unscathed but so apologetic that begin to feel light headed. Susan rushes off to bathroom. Comes back with wads of moistened paper towels from bathroom. Proceeds to wipe down side of machine. Attempts same on carpet. Efforts produce black paste. Walk back to desk. Appreciate the term snap, as in, he was fine until one day he snapped. Not surprising that office the most popular site of "snapping." The Contessa arrives from downstairs--has settle into a grim schedule of cigarette breaks on the half hour. She looks gray. Tell her about toner. She says, shh. I think I might be sick. Stares fixedly at spider plant on her desk.