Yesterday was not a bad day. It was quiet. Everything has been nice at the fruit stand. Not much was going on and that was fine. No complaints, as far as I know. None from me at least. I can’t say there were any about me, but I wouldn’t know.

Bill and I did our thing last night, just watching TV, being boring which we like. I slept OK last night, though the night before I had the dehydration headache. But not last night. A trip to the bathroom was expected and accomplished.

When I woke up with the alarm clock, I decided I needed a day off. A mental health day. When I dad dinner with the counselor who placed me at the fruit stand along with other fruit stand employees, the counselor mentioned that we have a PTO which stands for Personal Time Off.

And so I took a PTO. When I attempted to do so in the past, I was usually hit by a wave of guilt, so much so that I would actually go to the office later in the day. Granted I would say I wasn’t feeling well, and had gotten better.

But today was not that. No guilt. More rain was expected today and I did not want to deal with that, not after getting a thorough soaking on Saturday afternoon. Bill had his errands to run as I fixed up some coffee for myself.

So much bad news, a steady current of bad news and it does take some effort to avoid it. I admit there is a social media addiction which causes the stress levels to rise and allows some depression to creep through.

I was able to not look at those things, most concerned L’Orange Merde and that piece of shit is everywhere.

While Bill was on his way out, I made my own way for my errands. A stop at the cigar store where I saw Imram who was having his lunch. The cigar shop is not doing so well and he’s taken to being a delivery man for people’s food orders after his shift at the cigar shop. He has that immigrant work ethic and I have the spoiled work ethic of needing a mental health day.

The rain was approaching, pushing forward a front of humidity. No breezes, just thick, warm air.

I walked to the supermarket again, this time a lot drier than Saturday. The supermarket was easy enough, I bought things I forgot on Saturday as well as things that I noticed that I needed since then. The walk home was easy going.

I walked through the streets where the St. Ann’s Feast were setting up for the upcoming events. Mike really wants to go and wants Bill to join us, so that is what is planned for the weekend, probably Saturday night.

Tomorrow I will be stationed at the main fruit stand. There is the usual apprehension but I think I have a good grip on it. It’s mainly from working alone at the fruit stand I am usually at, dealing with a handful of people to dealing with maybe a hundred people at the main fruit stand.

And in the back of my mind, there is what Jimmy Chile calls the evil Jiminy Cricket telling me that I am not up to snuff and that I am going to be let go. Evil Jiminy Cricket pops up every now and then, saying variations of the same thing, but I am still there though for today, I am here.

And of course, it’s raining again.

Monday in July. I am at the fruit stand once more, enjoying the slow pace of things. It was a good weekend, filled with things. Mike came over on Friday, while Bill was in Manhattan working with the theatrical society he joined a few months ago.

He was performing in a few 10 minute plays about Baseball and wrote and directed one of them. Before that though, it was a different story. The night before I went to bed leaving Bill and Mike to talk about theater. Mike has an active interest and Bill has his tales to tell. They stayed up later than either one of them intended and I slept soundly.

The next morning was filled with rain. There was a plan, perhaps only in my head, where the three of us would head to the supermarket. It was a steady, heavy rain and Bill had his play to work on for that evening’s performance and Mike was helping him with his lines.

So I wound up going to the supermarket in the rain. The umbrella I had sufficed as I walked from the apartment to the cigar shop to the supermarket. Halfway to the supermarket I started to doubt my resolve to get groceries, but I knew I needed my provisions.

I puffed on a small cigar and crossed street corners that were slowly flooding. I got what I needed from the supermarket and 20 minutes later I was heading out only to face a few inches of water where only a few minutes earlier things were relatively OK.

It poured and poured and my usual route needed to be recalibrated. I thought I was lessening my exposure to the flooding but I was only kidding myself. I was merely a block or two from my apartment and my work boots were washed out.

About 3 inches of water on the sidewalk and about 6 inches off the curb which was where I needed to go. Once you were wet, there was nothing to do about it except to trudge on through. I rang the buzzer to my building and Bill buzzed me and Mike helped me out on the stairs to the apartment as I stepped out of my soggy work boots and left them in the hallway to dry.

Bill headed out after that and I was left hoping the performance would be canceled that night due to the rain. It wasn’t and Mike and I soon were on a bus headed to the evening’s performance. And it was very good. 8 10-minute plays about baseball.

Bill was in a few of them and also wrote and directed one of them. His first time for that. And it was impressive, not just Bill’s input but the whole evening of entertainment. Mike was moved to tears a few times. Overall we both liked the plays very much and found Bill’s fellow members to be very nice and welcoming.

A walk to the subway followed since it started to rain again. Mike was hungry and so we went to Benny’s where I had not had a slice of their pizza in quite a number of years. It was just as bland as I remembered and at $6.00 not worth it. But we were hungry and something needed to be done.

We got back to the apartment and ate the warm slices, I had 2 and Mike had one of two, saving the other for Sunday. Bill went to bed and I was there at midnight, past my bedtime. Sunday arrived and I did the bike ride again, this time to North Bergen for a change of pace.

It was a good ride, nothing exciting. Easy to avoid people and they were more receptive to my buzzing when I approached them. I rode back to Hoboken, stopping at an ATM for some cash. There was what could be described as a yuppie though I don’t think that word is in use these days.

He was having a problem getting in with his bank card and his frustration showed with each attempt. I told him to let me try and sure enough access was granted. I had my bike on the railing outside and in trying to remove it, sliced open the ring finger on my left hand.

It bled a lot despite my trying to stem the bleeding. Bill was at the matinee of the plays and Mike was home, somewhat distressed by the blood. He opened the very old bandaids and I applied them as we sat and watched Alias, a show that he used to watch back in the day. It was the first episode so he filled me in on who was who and what was what.

Bill was soon home and we watched Spain beat Argentina in the World Cup final. Mike was soon on his way home and Bill and I watched the Hannah Waddingham/Olivia Spencer show on Amazon, followed by episodes of Jeopardy that we missed.

I was soon asleep, dreaming of trying to sell issues of Playboy that my brother Frank used to own. There was a pawnbroker interested as well as my Rasta pal Jesse. It was an odd dream interrupted by a dehydration headache I had. I got out of bed, took 2 gelcaps and was fast asleep after that.