By the time the interview was over, it was late Wednesday morning, which meant that I had two business days and a weekend to get my life in order before I became a respectable citizen again. I should go grocery shopping (Clif Bars are not only great zombie survival food, but also make a pretty satisfying breakfast). I should buy shaving cream. I should get my dry cleaning done.

I stopped off at the first dry cleaners on my way back to my apartment to see if I could get everything cleaned by Friday afternoon. Four suits? Shouldn’t be a problem, I was told. Awesome, I’ll bring them right over.

Then I pointed to my crotch and asked if they could take care of this too? “Get the fuck out of my store!!!” she was yelling at me. I tried to explain that I meant the banana on my pants that got everywhere. That didn’t clear things up. Silly me. Laughing about it didn’t help either, but I couldn’t help that. “I’m calling the police!!!”

I didn’t wait around to find out, and ran out of the store, almost bowling over an old lady clutching a fur coat.

Jesus, people are so sensitive. I walked to the next dry cleaner – across the street, what are they, Starbucks? – and had essentially the same conversation, this time leaving out the crotch pointing. This time it went much better.

With that out of the way, I decided the normal thing would be to call some people and let them know that I got a job. The normal thing would be to be happy about all this. I’m starting to realize that the only thing normal in my life is that nothing is normal anymore. So I made some phone calls. Not so much for bragging purposes, but rather to give people notice that they can’t just call me at 11 a.m. and ask me to look things up on the Internet for them anymore.

I called Dan. “Whaddup dude?” he replied.

“I got a job!”

“Awesome, lets go boozin!”

“Dan, it’s not even lunchtime yet.”

“Oh, Yeah. Dude, did you hear about the headphone protest in the Circle tomorrow? We gotta go check that shit out, it’s going to be off the hook!”

The protest was going to be eight blocks away in DuPont Circle. I could only image where the hook was.

“Great, I’ll meet up with you then.”