memories of warshingtown x247

 

I was just thinking a few moments ago (it is now almost 9:20 am) that I could not remember exactly where was the building where I worked as a messenger for many months in 1976. It was somewhere south of Pennsylvania Avenue and west of the White House, if I can remember anything accurately. I believe I used to walk to work, from our little attic place up on the corner of 17th and New Hampshire. Down New Hampshire Avenue toward foggy bottom, again, if I remember anything correctly, but I do not remember very much at all – what I remember is working, driving that little white car around DC and the suburbs, picking up and carrying messages and sometimes whole boxes of paper, yes.

And then, much more vaguely, I remember coming back to the office. That was routine, unremarkable, and forgettable. What I do remember is more extraordinary events that took place while I was out in the field, driving, or running in and out of buildings. How people used to sniff at me in elevators, and I would assume they thought themselves so much more high class than I, or at least better smelling. They were perfumed and I was stinky and sweaty from running around and picking up boxes.

Class.

 

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4 thoughts on “memories of warshingtown x247

  1. Quite a sweet sprig of clover, that was, your Eau… but did you know “eau” in French means “water” — but we have changed its meaning in English to fragrance, because of its use in eau de toilette, eau de Javel, eau de Cologne, eau de rose, eau de lavande, all of which are “water of…” huh ain’t a hoot how words get their meanings changed when they move from one language into another.

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