The day came today. What had been building up since July 8 came to fruition. I handled it well. The whole dismissal took about 2 minutes thanks to me. Not much of a response but ‘OK thanks’.

Raoul seemed to have tears in my eyes after Barbara Shorten handed me papers to sign regarding the ending of my job. He told me I could put him down as a reference and to keep his number in my phone. I shook his hand and even gave him a hug.

I think he did go to bat for me but it was not to be. There were sharks nearby and they smelled the blood in the water due to my mistake of sending the wrong documents to the wrong client. No one has heard from Jean Horonich and they fear Benjamin Taylor making a big stink. Basically, they wanted me out and this was the third strike.

The first strike was an incredulous ‘Really’ to an infection named Brian Calamaras. The second strike was a somewhat embellished story about my break time and the fuss it seemed to be causing, embellished by a Legume’s progeny.

There are people I did like working with though the days of hanging out after work with coworkers for a few drinks had long vanished from my routine. I tried sending emails to one or two of them at their work address but there are probably cyber nets to catch that sort of thing, ex-employee sending messages to current employees.

I didn’t feel so bad when it all happened this afternoon but being home for the past hours the numbness is starting to fade. Bill has been outstanding. He was angry. I told him the whole story as it unfolded over the four and a half months. He really does not like the fact that la matrone enfermée dans le placard also known as Joselito Semana or his drag name, Lito roams the streets and back alleys free as a fairy blue bird. Look it up.

Who knows what I will feel like tomorrow? Without seeming pretentious, I haven’t had a long job like a lot of people I know. I last for a few years then I’m out. I wonder why that is. I’m not like anybody else. It’s a fact and also no one is like anybody else. Is it an artistic bent in my life?

There was a job I had in the late 80s working with artists, and musicians and that was fun, working for Rupert Murdoch of all people. And I’m still friends with some of them, though Rupert never accepts my friend invites on the social medias.

I just checked Lunked Out, and was going to friend a former coworker and saw she was Maga. I withdrew my invitation. They did give me good advice regarding the situation I was in, and I knew she leaned right but seeing her quotes and support made me abandon the supporter on L’Orange Merde.

How will I feel tomorrow?

I want to see the end of L’Orange Merde once and for all.
I know it won’t go away by Wednesday. The fight goes on. We’ll see how I feel.

Hoboken day. Not officially but I did have experiences in Hoboken that I rarely have these days. It was daylight savings and where about 30-plus years ago that would have meant an extra hour to party, nowadays it’s an extra hour of sleep. I did wake up and saw the time which was the same as yesterday and I forgot about daylight savings. It was not alarming despite it being on the alarm clock.

I slept some more and had more vivid dreams like I had the past nights. Waking up was easy. On Sundays, I catch less than a minute of Breakfast with the Beatles, and the song this morning was No More Lonely Nights by Paul McCartney. Not one of his best and no need to listen for more than ten seconds.

With my 1981 haircut drying off after a shower was a breeze. Bill lovingly made the coffee before heading out to drive a bus filled with Dutch runners to the Marathon. I watched CBS Sunday Morning as that is a big part of my Sunday morning routine.

Bill thought he would be driving 2 shifts today but it turned out to be only one. He was coming home early and got me a bagel to show his love. Actually, I requested the bagel and I knew the love would always be there.

Today was the last day for early voting and Bill went the other day, so I decided to go this afternoon. On my way, I met Mary Dooley who lives in Union City. We met when a friend Mark was driving by and offered a ride. I thanked him and he asked me to hear his playlist, specifically a song called Fuck Trump.

I laughed and so did Mary Dooley as she was about 10 feet behind me. Mark drove off and Mary and I started chatting. I never met her before and figured we must have some Maxwell’s references but no, she had never been. We were both on the same side with regard to the election.

We parted when I got to the cigar shop and she was walking slow enough that I would probably catch up but that never happened. In the cigar shop, I talked with Imram who asked about the election. I gave my skewed take on it and he seemed to agree with most of what I said. He mentioned that a few of the customers were Maga twats. Not his words.

I was off to city hall for my turn to vote and walked to the entrance to find about a hundred people in a queue to vote early. I followed the line and took my place at the end of the line of which I was usurped by a young mom with her two rambunctious daughters.

The line moved slowly and I was close to the entrance about 45 minutes later. At least it wasn’t like the lines of voters in Georgia or wherever the rotten republicans make it difficult to vote, especially if the area leans towards Blue and is largely non-white.

A man with his daughter was just ahead of me and the man asked how long I lived in Hoboken. I gave him my story, mentioning Lodi and he mentioned his cousin Barbara Wasek who I had gone to grammar school with.

His name is Ed Kasper and lives in Hillsdale. I mentioned my Brother Brian lives with his family in Hillsdale and he knew Brian. It was a small world with those six degrees of separation this afternoon. And I voted for Column A.