"Most Of The Time She Ain't Even In My Mind"

I've got a face that just says to strangers, "hey, tell me your life story," don't I?  Why do complete strangers feel compelled to tell me very intimate details of their personal history without me in any way requesting this?

Take this morning, for instance--I took my car in to have the window replaced, and they get one of the mechanics to give me a lift back to the apartment.  On the trip across town, the guy engages me in a conversation not only about music (which I didn't mind until he strayed into a discussion of country), but then it suddenly morphed into a conversation about this guy's trouble with women and how he'd given up drinking back in February.  Congrats and all on the being sober, guy, but is this really something I need to know?  Do I need to know that you, a man the same age as my father, are dealing with girl troubles?  No, I don't.  Knowing this stuff doesn't make it any easier for my window to be fixed, though I guess the guy has a right to be proud of being sober for five months.  But I don't think a customer is the sort of person you're supposed to impart this sort of knowledge to, y'know?  Doesn't really ease my mind to think that he was probably a drunkard the last time he worked on my car.

Anyway, they ought to be done with my car sometime early this afternoon, and at 2.30 I'm supposed to go over to Ev's place to watch the second part of the Joseph Campbell interview we started watching at the beginning of the month.

Also, I've finally heard from one of my professors in regards to my Master's Thesis.  Unfortunately, it was the one who is out of the country and won't be able to look at the thing until mid-August.  That's not really very helpful.  I need to find my advisor's phone number today.

~chuck

Song of the Moment: Ringo Starr, "It Don't Come Easy"