Snow Haiku
tumble on 42nd street
43rd st, salt falls into shoe
cellphone left at home

It snowed last night. About 3 or 4 inches, and when having a size queen for a partner, you realize that 3 or 4 inches isn’t much really. Zoom zoom zoom! Bill was up and active as I plodded around the apartment. Once again I thanked him for the cereal and the coffee and was able to get the words out properly. I stepped into the shower and got myself all clean for the day ahead. After that, breakfast and checking email while getting dressed and watching the telly for weather reports. It was a mess they said.

And it certainly was a mess. There were no emails from jaundiced psychopaths in Clifton today but that was only because I blocked his yellow ass. The sidewalk wasn’t shoveled and I couldn’t find the recycling can to throw out my recyclables. Turns out it was across the street on a neighbor’s shoveled sidewalk. I walked over and brought it back to the building throwing my plastics in there. It wasn’t so bad walking to Washington Street though when I got closer to the street I realized I left my cellphone at home.

I thought about turning around to go get it from the apartment but decided to go ahead to work instead. I was a bit worried that the office would be closed and I wouldn’t get the call not to come in. With every step I took and with every block the bus went past I felt like the office was not going to be open. I got off the bus and walked through the bus terminal and stepped into the slushy streets. As I walked down 42nd Street I decided to cross since it seemed more shoveled than the side I was on.

As I approach the curb I lift one foot over a puddle of ice and find myself falling down onto the sidewalk one hand clutching the umbrella, the other trying to cushion my fall. I landed on my left knee which hurt a little but I was able to limp and walk it off. A block later I felt ok. As I walked down 43rd Street I pass a maintenance employee for some building with a salt spreader spreading salt. He just kept spreading the salt as people walked by and of course some of that salt made it into my shoe.

I got to the office and only Larry was in. The office was officially open though President Naomi had opted to stay home in Essex County and Wally wasn’t expected in since he had that ear operation the other day. Everyone else trailed in. Not many applicants today. I surfed around and did some data entry, careful not to do too much since I’m basically all caught up to everyone’s amazement and gratitude. Sent some emails to former coworkers wishing them all a Happy Valentine’s Day, much like the wish I am giving to you right now.

Tuesday. Not quite Wednesday and better than Monday but still… Woke up earlier than I thought. Ten minutes earlier. Bill was all gussied up for his work day and I thanked him for making the coffee and pouring my cereal, though it didn’t come out quite like that.. I mumbled in my morning speak and Bill didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, but he understood what I was trying to say. I was in te shower when he kissed me good bye.

After the cereal and coffee I got dressed and checked some emails. In one of my illicit accounts was an email from some neck bone in Clifton named Submit Submit Submit. He’s known for his yellowing photograph online and found a disparaging remark about my age being 44. He didn’t believe it and I took the bait with an email, “no it’s true. the aging process might be different in Clifton, but I am what I say. at least I’m not as aged as your pic. is the yellow because of your lighting or your jaundice? hasn’t the Smithsonian noticed one of Matthew Brady’s pictures missing? cheers and good luck with your endless unfulfilled quest. look forward to seeing you on dateline real soon”

He probably had to run to Wikipedia or something to find out who Matthew Brady is and to see if Matthew Brady is a submissive. Or perhaps he’s one of the Brady Bunch. I know, it’s a stretch. A little research on this headless yellow fellow stated that Miss Thing is actually 41 years old and 5’9”. Such a silly little man, trolling around 24/7 for a bottom that never arrives, and if he does arrive, probably never comes since the yellow underwear can be so off putting. But enough about ol’ urinal cakes. Back to me, Mr. Nice Guy who really is 44 years old.

Rode to work, read I, Claudius. Germanicus is suppressing a mutiny along the Rhine while Tiberius is dealing with rebellion in Bosnia. Finished one chapter too soon and dove right into the next chapter. That means I’ll be jumping in mid chapter tomorrow. I just hope it’s not on the test. Walked to work, listening to Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros, ‘Global A Go Go’. Really a good record. I should burn it for Annemarie but I only have it on the iPod and haven’t found a Senuti program suitable for PC’s. I used it on the Mac at McMann and Tate and lifted it from someone else’s iPod.

If anyone knows of a program that allows you to take songs from your iPod and put into your own iTunes, I’d appreciate knowing about it. Work itself was fine. Wally still out, recovering from his ear operation. I worked on my data entries when a flower delivery came through the door. I didn’t think they were for me but they were. From Bill. From Ubee to Bubee. Very nice to receive a dozen red roses at work. I was the envy of most of the girls in the office. President Naomi mentioned how nice they were and how she looked forward to meeting Bill. I’m sure that will happen down the line.

And here’s some pics!