Still the same
Still reading the book about the cars.
I was behind some chick that I had to instruct to push the door rather than pull the door, took my spot outside as I smoked my little cigar.
So Mike has convinced his beloved not to make the trip for Thanksgiving since it would have been outrageously expensive, over $1,000 for a round trip from San Francisco to LaGuardia, which is a relief for me.
A bus driving friend of Bill’s passed away, had a stroke, and soon after, I entered hospice care within 24 hours; he left his mortal coil. Bill asked if I would attend the memorial service in December with him, and of course dragged my feet and said no, I didn’t know the guy, and regretted doing that, so I will be attending, but he does not know that yet.
It’s not a bad day weather wise today in Manhattan on November 25, Tuesday. I do like to sleep, and I slept well last night, although the night before, the carbon monoxide detector went off, alerting us that the batteries need to be changed, and of course, it did it at 2:30 in the morning.
Usually, there’s a chirping sound to give us some info that the battery needs to be changed, but not this time, it was straight up and get the hell out of bed and change the batteries, it’s 2:30 a.m.
Other little Catholic boys wearing uniforms to high school around the block just passed by, and the funny thing is, they’re old enough to be my grandkids. Perhaps children out of wedlock? There’s nothing sexual about them that I see, because even when I was their age, I was not interested in kids that were my age. I like older men, and I still do, and I still look for them even though now I play the part of the older man, which is ironic, wouldn’t you say?
I just dictated a text to Bill that he can know I will be attending the memorial, and then he will say I don’t have to, and I will say I know, but I will. Mike actually convinced me to go since he had gone to a memorial with his ex, Jason, years ago for someone that Mike did not know. So I figure if he can do it, I can do it, that’s the way love is
And it’s still crazy quiet, at the fruit stand, and tomorrow I’ll be at the main fruit stand in midtown, where there will be more space and more quietude.
Mike ordered an external hard drive, which was supposed to be delivered on Friday and was delivered today via FedEx, which is not the method I would have preferred, but Bill was home to buzz the package in.
For lunch today, I had halal food once again, and it was good, but not as good as it was last week, which was the first time, and is it ever as good as the first time?
David Salidor, his name pops into my head after seeing someone who sort of looks like them.
One fruit stand employee came in today. He didn’t have to; he’s getting paid for staying at home, but here he is saying it’s the only time he can get work done, with no one around to distract him.
Last week I ordered an Eagle Creek bag. It is being delivered by a company I have never heard of before, and I contacted them and asked them some questions. I asked if they were partners with FedEx or USPS, or UPS, and they said no, it is being delivered by On Track, a company I’d never heard of before.
So after I got off the phone with them, I did a little research and found out that on track delivers it to the post office, which then delivers it to the customer. So they say it was delivered, I can only hope it’s indoors on the floor waiting for me to bring it upstairs. So Mike’s hard drive has been delivered, the Eagle Creek bag has been delivered, and also some cigars that I had ordered or were supposed to be delivered today, so perhaps three items will be waiting for me when I get home.
The fruit stand has given me an iPad to work with as I monitor the doors at another fruit stand. Since I will be working at the main fruit stand tomorrow I have to bring the iPad with me and remember to bring the iPad with me so that’s that. It’s all about memory. Which, for me, sometimes resembles Swiss cheese due to the amount of marijuana that I inhale sometimes, hahaha.
This dictation into the phone is a bit unnerving since it translates what it thinks I said rather than actually taking my words into account. And I suppose the prosthetics in my mouth can make me slur my words, which can be frustrating for me as well as whoever is ever taking the dictation notes.
A humorous Google Gemini rewrite
Here is a humorous rewrite of your day’s musings:
## 🍎 A Day in the Life: Still the Same, Yet Fabulously Different 🚬
The groundbreaking literary masterpiece on **cars** is still being devoured—a thrilling page-turner, I assure you. My public service announcement for the day involved instructing some bewildered soul that doors, much like my favorite kind of man, occasionally prefer to be **pushed**, not pulled. After that triumph, I claimed my rightful smoking spot outside for a contemplative little cigar.
—
### ✈️ Thanksgiving: The Great Escape
Hallelujah! Mike, bless his pragmatic heart, successfully convinced his beloved to skip the Thanksgiving pilgrimage. Apparently, a round-trip from San Francisco to LaGuardia costs more than my entire wardrobe… or a small pre-owned vehicle. Over **$1,000!** My wallet—and my sanity—breathe a collective sigh of relief. This is truly the best gift I could ask for.
—
### 💀 The Unexpected Eulogy & My Swiss Cheese Memory
Bill’s bus-driving friend checked out via a stroke, a truly inconsiderate move that led to hospice and his grand exit within 24 hours. Bill invited me to the memorial, and naturally, I initially adopted the posture of a grumpy turtle, declaring, “I didn’t even know the guy!” Instantly regretting my inner curmudgeon, I’ve decided to go. Bill doesn’t know yet, though. I just dictated a text, forcing myself to be a decent human being, which Mike actually egged me into. If he could attend a service for his ex Jason’s acquaintance years ago, then clearly, I can manage this act of social grace. That’s love, folks—a high-stakes game of keeping up with Mike.
—
### 🚨 Midnight Alarms and Time Travelers
It’s a surprisingly pleasant, non-apocalyptic Tuesday here in Manhattan. I did enjoy a quality sleep last night, a welcome change from the night before when the carbon monoxide detector decided that **2:30 a.m.** was the perfect time to scream about its battery life. Usually, there’s a polite, subtle *chirp-chirp* warning, but not this time. It went straight to Defcon 1: **”GET THE HELL OUT OF BED, YOU’RE GONNA DIE, CHANGE MY BATTERIES!”**
—
### 👴🏼 My Grandkids’ Uniforms and My Type
A parade of little Catholic school boys, dressed like tiny, serious accountants, just ambled past. The punchline? They are old enough to be my grandchildren! Perhaps they are products of some scandalous, generational slip-up? I view them with purely analytical detachment, for even at their age, I was not interested in my peers. I preferred, and still pursue, the stately charm of **older men**. It’s the cruelest cosmic joke that I am now, ironically, playing the role of the older man I seek. The irony is thicker than a cheap toupee, wouldn’t you say?
—
### 📦 Delivery Chaos and Halal Disappointment
The fruit stand remains eerily quiet. Tomorrow, I’m off to the **main fruit stand in midtown** where I anticipate more space and, critically, more quietude.
Today was a delivery bonanza. Mike’s external hard drive, which was slated for a Friday arrival, defied the laws of logistics and arrived today via FedEx—my least favorite method, but Bill was conveniently home to buzz it in.
Lunch was halal food, version 2.0. Good, yes, but not the transcendent, first-time experience of last week. Is *anything* ever as good as the first time? (Narrator: No.)
—
### 🧠 The Logistics of Lateness
An employee is here, unnecessarily, sacrificing a paid day off. He claims it’s the only way to get work done without the usual distraction circus. Bless his focused heart.
My Eagle Creek bag order, however, is a saga. It’s being delivered by a mysterious entity called “On Track.” They assured me they weren’t in cahoots with FedEx, UPS, or USPS. My crack research (a quick Google search) revealed their cunning plot: they deliver it to the post office, who *then* delivers it to me. So now, the hard drive, the bag, and some newly ordered cigars are hopefully waiting patiently on my floor.
The fruit stand has armed me with an iPad, which I am now responsible for transporting to the main store tomorrow. My biggest concern is remembering to bring the darn thing. My memory, thanks to my penchant for puffing on a little greenery, occasionally resembles a block of Swiss cheese—delicious, but full of holes! Hahaha.
—
### 🗣️ The Dictation Drama
And finally, this dictation is a deeply frustrating collaboration. My phone’s transcription seems less interested in what I *actually* say and more concerned with its own creative interpretation. Compounding the issue are my mouth prosthetics, which I suspect transform my carefully articulated words into a slurring mess, frustrating both me and the poor algorithm taking notes.
***
Would you like me to write a short, witty email to Bill letting him know you’ll be attending the memorial?