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.

After a night of not so restful sleep, I rode my bicycle about 13.5 miles this afternoon. Even started a little earlier than usual. I had nothing to do, depression was lurking at the edges of the morning. After walking with Bill for a few miles yesterday we were both feeling it.

Bill never seems to have difficulty falling asleep whereas I sometimes do. Thursday into Friday was some of the best sleep I’d had in a while and tried to duplicate it the next night to no avail. Last night, feeling the effect of the long walk I figured that I’d have no problem, but I did.

Maybe it was because Bill wasn’t home until about 2:30 AM. I usually tell Bill I don’t sleep well until he is in bed next to me. I guess it’s true. But it wasn’t a restful sleep when he showed up.

So after watching CBS Morning News, a bit of the Rolling Stones, and some David Sedaris among others, and after a couple of episodes on the Golden Girls (I know, I know) I got it together and headed out.

Some roads that were under construction the past couple of weeks were reopened so that was nice. I pedaled past Newark Ave where yesterday was a Jersey City Pride celebration, today from where I cycled there was no sign whatsoever.

Into Liberty State Park was good, no problems yet. A short break under a favorite tree was nice, took another set of a series of the Statue of Liberty. Of course, you can’t see them here, though they can be found on one of the social medias.

Everything was going well as I rode on the path that winds alongside the roads going through the park. All of a sudden a car appears. It doesn’t look like a police car, but that doesn’t mean anything, they could be undercover.

As I passed them I saw that it was some older guy (looking older than me) driving the narrow path…parallel to a road designed for cars. I yelled into his open window, ‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?’.

I was not sure if he heard me as he drove by me, so I stopped to watch what he was going to do next. I saw a park worker in his truck but he didn’t do anything as the errant driver found a way to get back on the road. But seriously, what the fuck? Thankfully that was the worst of it.

Back to Hoboken where I saw my neighbors getting ready for their own trek up to Edgewater, They’re braver than me, no helmets for them and they’re not too put off by cars speeding past them a few feet away from riding on the sidewalk after the Hudson River Walkway ends in North Bergen. I stop at the border but there they go, off into the asphalt wonder.

I felt every step climbing up four flights to the fifth floor.