Mondays are a drag, let’s face it. Even if you’re good with them, chances are you’ll run into someone who is not having it. Once again I did not sleep well. I can’t figure it out. I do the correct things beforehand. My routine is just that, routine. But I cannot sink into the arms of Morpheus.

He’s playing hard to get. My eyes close but I only go so deep. Then there are the things that happen in the middle of the night when you hit a certain age and need to get out of bed.

Bill was up and out around 1:00 AM. He also heard the last night of the closing of the radio chapter of WCBS News Radio which shaded his general enthusiasm somewhat.

My day started slowly. I crept through the apartment, reminding myself that I did take a personal time off last week for mental health reasons and this coming Friday is a half day on a holiday weekend, so I could easily do this. I can’t say I was motivated but I did leave the apartment earlier than usual and got to work a little bit after 9:00 AM.

I try to get some of that overtime gravy so anything over 40 hours is time and a half, but with the holiday, inhuman resources does some sleight of hand, and presto, that half day which counts as a full day does not permit such plebian methods as overtime so the early time I put in is all for naught.

Still, I have somewhere to be, with something to do. The usual greyheads roam around, some bright spots do appear. I’ve taken to keeping to myself whenever possible. I was busy most of the time and finished my main tasks a little before noon.

Last night I made the weekend staple, Penne, Pesto, and Chicken. I usually make it on Saturday but there was no time for that. I usually make enough for me, a little bit for Bill as per his request and I take the rest to work on Monday. And I still did that but there was a lot to eat at lunchtime and halfway through, I had my fill.

I could have put it back in the fridge at work, but decided I could give it to a homeless guy I see most days. I give him an orange and a buck usually. I hoped he would be around tonight and he was. I asked if he liked chicken and pasta and he said thank you very much. I also gave him an orange and a buck and he thanked me very much again.

I suppose that at least I know it’s Monday, but for this poor soul, every day could be Monday. I am happy to do what I do. It’s a dollar I wasn’t using and he could probably get more out of it than I could. I used to do that when I worked at Alger.

I’ll have to write about that some other time.