I have kick/stab/pull started my free lance writing career. (can it be called a career if you only have two assignments?)
One of the assignments involves me watching TV. (!) So while I’m killing time waiting for Jerseylicious to start, I am watching a PBS documentary on the Triangle Garment Factory. It is an interesting, if bizarre dichotomy.
Think about it, you have groups of young, ambitious women gathered around a common occupation.
There the similarity ends. There may be a few others, such as the factory owners hiring prostitutes to start fights with workers to prevent strikes (Hmmm)
But there is no way I can defend the self-imposed sweatshoppery of New Jersey salon vs the struggle for survival in an actual sweatshop.
Speaking of sweatshops,we are on day six of the air conditioning run around. This is not as fun as it sounds. I have absolutely no faith that these repair folk know what they are doing, but as they have a good portion of our money, I want to see something happen so that I can stop sweating like a farm animal.
The technician, who whistles when he talks, just told me that the his meters on the outside compressors were spinning the numbers 666 around. (Air compressor of the devil?)
This does not surprise me.
I have often felt that I am the pawn between good and evil (not to be confused with the prawn between good and evil-worst appetizer ever.) And I have of late come to the conclusion that there is some kind of Job-like (Job-esque, Job-licious??) situation happening around me.
It’s hot, and clearly my brain is steaming like a lobster. I would say crab, but I’m allergic.