It’s Friday and I’m happy. I am also a lame duck, sort of like Bush but I’d like to think I am way smarter. Well that’s what Bill just said. Bill was at his folks again last night, Juan was scheduled to come over but was stuck in traffic so I enjoyed a mellow night alone at home. Just watched television mainly. Watched My Name is Earl, Scrubs and 30 Rock, none of The Office as it wasn’t on. I read some of the New Yorker, once again about two or three weeks behind. Very funny article by David Sedaris in the Cartoon Issue.

Woke up this morning and it was dark and way cold. Last week the temperature was pushing 70 degrees, this morning it was pushing 20 degrees. Very cold. Time to dress in layers. Too cold for cereal. Coffee and vitamins will do until I get my bagel in the city. It was freezing out with sharp winds that cut like a clichéd knife. I hustled down to the train and stood with everyone else, gloves on and hanging onto the pole. I’d never make it as a pole dancer, that seems to be for sure. The world’s loss.

I got to the office and it was just as I like it. Empty. Major players were out of town, Boston and London. That meant most of the B-players were running the show and they’re easily avoided and occasionally manipulated. No manipulation needed since Jenn was in again and it freed me up to make myself invisible. Didn’t do much except make coffee today. It was quiet and nothing to do most of the day. Donna, had a few requests for me to do and that required little effort. Just sat at the desk and made some phone calls.

Jenn was great as usual but there was some drama going on with her and her family that ultimately made her have to leave the office after a few minutes into a crying jag in the ladies room. That was fine and actually made me lamer. Another strange thing, a few people in the office have come up to me and asked if Donna was pregnant. I have no idea as I’m not one of her confidants. I did see what is lately called a baby bump though I called it a baby bulge when discussing it with Lizzie Borden.

The day was slow but pleasant. I left the office at 5:30 under the guise of going to see Philip Beansprout. Most of the employees were drinking hot toddies which they made themselves while leaving the kitchen in a mess, microwave door ajar, rum bottles and glasses everywhere. I knew I wasn’t going to clean it up, I was heading out the door, Padron in pocket. It had warmed up somewhat, being around 30 degrees as I walked down Sixth Avenue towards Canal Street.

Once again, as it’s happened the past few nights, always at Canal and Sixth, someone invariably approaches me and asks for directions. I give generally correct directions, merely pointing east or west, uptown or downtown and say, ‘That way.’ The other night though a middle aged Asian woman asked me for directions to a restaurant and I was walking in that direction, but wound up walking past it for a few blocks, finally checked the numbers on a building to see I had taken her off course. I turned her around and sent her back. I guess I have a face that can be trusted, my willingness to help is what others sometimes see. Strangers can see it, though the majority of my soon to be former coworkers couldn’t. Their loss.