On my way home yesterday, I stopped for a bite to eat at the pizza place on the corner of St. Marks and second avenue. I wasn't in the mood to rush home, but I also haven't been drinking very much lately.

I sat down to my slice, and started to contemplate my day. A few seconds into my contemplation, a man at the table next to mine said "Did you go to Vassar?"

I did, yes.

He introduced himself as John, and told me that he writes for a magazine, although he skillfully managed to avoid naming which one. He also told me that he recognized me from my days as a TA for an International Studies class. Two interesting points about that.

First, I hadn't remembered that I'd done the International Studies class. Second, I hadn't remembered being a TA. But I did do both things.

We talked about the Vassar club, and what we're doing in the city, and then he got up and left. I had a moment to get back into my own head, to start contemplating the adventures I used to have, when from behind me I heard someone say "Swerdloff?"

I turned around and one of my coworkers was standing a few feet away, looking vaguely surprised to see me at a corner pizza shop. He joined me for his slices, and we talked about nonwork things, and I felt more balanced between work and life than I have since Thanksgiving.