Saturday. Did I write yesterday? Was it oily? No that was the day before. Still leaping around the Michael Palin Diaries: The Python Years. I’m going to have to return it to the library soon. Oddly enough, the latest entry I read was about the Tim Rice program where Michael Palin and John Cleese had to defend Life of Brian from two high falutin clerics from the Church of England who attacked the film without having seen it. I say oddly enough since for me it was quite important and engrossing.

It’s humorous watching it 45 years later on YouTube, Cleese and Palin are still alive, the clerics no doubt grappling with what they thought was an afterlife and the realization that with all the money they fleeced from their flocks, they couldn’t take it with them, and the Messiah they worshipped, if he’s out there would more than likely admonish and perhaps condemn them for their views and their actions.

Or maybe not.

I am not one to pronounce what happens after this life since I simply do not know. I embrace the thought that the spirit or soul or essence goes out to the ever-expanding universe.

Or maybe not.

Today, like I started with, is Saturday. My dreams have become quite odd. The ones I remember involve working. Last dream, I was working with my sister in some capacity. It was sort of in Hoboken. My neighbor Claire made an appearance. And not much work was being done which for me is not the norm, I do prefer to be busy. Makes the time go faster.

Today I was somewhat busy. I helped Bill out on 2 projects and was quite happy to do so. We had plans to go for a walk which for me meant going to the supermarket. I made a quick stop at the cigar shop, leaving Bill at home to finish one of his projects. That took longer than expected and when I came back to the building Bill was still working.

That was fine, I was already street level, so I let him know I was headed to the supermarket solo. No big deal. As I was almost done with picking up some groceries, Bill let me know he was on his way. I was not sure if he was going to shop for himself and told him I did get some things for him. It turned out he was getting his own stuff.

Blueberries? He got his own so I returned the organic blueberries because he was getting the bigger GMO blueberries that were a few dollars more. How many times is organic produce cheaper than non-organic produce? What matters to me does not matter to him. Then again, he has a job whereas I do not.

Then the walk home was stressful with words thrown back and forth. I was accused of rushing him through his projects. I most certainly did not do anything like that. If anything, I gave him a wide berth to do whatever it was he needed to do as I was prepared to do what I needed to do, alone.

I like to think he realized that. He seemed to, as things defrosted quite quickly by the time we got home.

Warning- This post will more than likely be all over the place. I’ll start with the one who used to sell me weed in the office, Danielle Chieffa. Danielle was an odd thing. Hyper to the point where a prescription could have helped though they were probably on some sort of meds already.

A few years ago Danielle was out of the office a lot. They were in danger of being let go but that never happened. Raoul asked me to look out for them since Danielle lived in the basement of their mother’s house in their thirties and Danielle’s mother wasn’t doing too well healthwise.

And I did look out for Danielle, after all they were bringing in weed for various people in the office which was a violation of company policy which was laughable since most of the upper echelon of this legal beagle firm were potheads.

A text from Danielle: “Hey bud, just checking in and seeing how you were doing. I’ve felt like you’ve been annoyed at me or just in general and just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I hope you don’t feel like I’ve been ignoring you or anything. I just wanted to give you your space because like I said I felt like you just wanted to be left alone. I value you as one of my closest friends at the office and would hate see anything tarnish that. I mean who else can I talk movies and music with and all the kooks that appear on jeopardy haha. Anyway love ya bud and I’m always here for you always.”

Danielle wasn’t there for me at all. In fact. The day after I received that text, I asked if they was available for a chat, or a walk around the block. There was no response. An offer of lending an ear to what Danielle called a friend was nothing but words in a text. Danielle even ran it by Raoul before sending and Raoul thought it was a good idea.

For some godforsaken reason, I wanted to maintain some sort of friendship and looked up Danielle online. An NY Post article from 2010 popped up about Danielle’s time as an athletic supporter. I mentioned it to Danielle when I saw them which freaked Danielle out, so much that they ran to Raoul claiming they felt I was stalking them.

I am not one to stalk runts from Queens that live in their mother’s basement. Danielle made every effort never to cross paths with me and to a degree they succeeded. I for one, am grateful that because of the falling out, there was no invitation to Danielle’s wedding out on Long Island.

I saved some money and shed a relationship like a scab on the bottom of my foot. Now I will never see Danielle or their betrothed. Danielle is an idiot and a thirty-something little old lady. I harbor doubts that the marriage will last long.

They will be childless since Danielle is a child themself and there is only room in the crib for one. And I’m pretty sure the married couple are living in Danielle’s mother’s basement.