I woke up sad. I’m sad about having to go to the office again. I really didn’t want to but I’m a slave to the dollar. I generally try to get out of bed before the alarms go off but this time the alarm caught me. It’s been a while since that happened and for a second I wondered how to stop the alarm. Then reality came to me and the alarm was silent.

Last week in the bagel shop I was thisclose to Shaun Moray who I went to high school with. I wrote about him a few weeks ago with another variation on his name as I don’t want him to do a search for his actual name and come across this here blog. We made eye contact and there was a hint of recognition on his face but by that time I was out the door beating a hasty exit.

This morning I saw him on a bike heading north. Then on the Path train as I sit and read Mojo with Bob Dylan on the cover I see Hugh Batista a co-worker who went to the same high school as me and Shaun Moray.

Being in the sad state of mind I was in, I had no desire to communicate with him in any way, so I basically buried my face in Bob Dylan’s Mojo. I do like Hugh Batista enough to change his name should HE decide to do a name check on himself and wind up alongside Shaun Moray reading this here blog.

I knew Hugh would be going with the crowd to the exits that everyone goes through. Me, being me, went the other way once again, adding a couple of minutes to my commute just to avoid people. And once I got to the office everything was just as I dreaded.

I was done with the majority of my tasks within the first 90 minutes, then Schlomo the DKB started sending me direct messages about 3 or 4 items that I mislabeled and sent out. There was no excuse on my part and I did say I was sorry and then went out of my way to apologize, all via texts.

This was when I was certain I was going to be let go. Some days I can deal with the sword of Damocles over my head but this was not one of those days. It all weighed heavily upon me.

Then I found out a relative of mine was having surgery which was a shock. I had no idea there was a problem but these relatives play their cards close to the vest not giving me any hint of something being amiss. I get the news from 3000 miles away.

From what I understand almost 12 hours later the surgery was a success. Not sure if I should say anything to the patient since it seems I wasn’t supposed to know in the first place. And with the depression going on right now in my life, perhaps it’s best if I maintain that distance.