Yes There Comes A Booming Sound

I have to admit I do miss something about having a regular gig (OK, I miss the steady cashish too). That something is socializing. Whenever I got bored or pissed or stuck in a rut, I could just go down that hall and kvetch with other associates who were just as bored or pissed or stuck in a rut. There's just something therapeutic about hashing it out with another person. Maybe it's the sum greater than its parts which leaves both people in the conversation feeling better, or maybe it's because talking to yourself is the first step in yelling at string on the corner while smelling like a cheesesteak hogie left in the sun.

I do e-mail, IM, or phone friends - so it's not like I'm barefoot in a swamp shack with just me and a shotgun named Lurleen. Yet that's not the same as just hangin' out with your buds. Sheesh. Before I get too maudlin, being alone during the day is a step up from the legal version of "Marty, you're a worthless whore who can't do anything right. Now fix me a chicken pot pie you bitch."