Did not write last night. Was it inspired by Michael Palin not writing diary entries on a daily basis? No. There were, and still are many plates spinning in the air. Not just my plates, but Bill’s plates as well. And other people were invariably involved with the plate spinning and they were of course, not very dependable.

I signed the paperwork for the law firm resignedly. I just want the whole thing in the past. It would have been too much of an uphill battle with a law firm. It was suggested by some a supervisor to sue their fleshy asses. I did send an email to the people I met with last week, but I sent it around 7 PM and they weren’t getting back to me, at least not yet.

I also contacted the inhuman resources director, asking if she got the original paperwork that I sent a week ago via the USPS. She did not. I blame Louie DeJoy, the postmaster general appointee of L’Orange Merde in the first go round.

It is taking over a week for an envelope to get across the Hudson River, from Hoboken to Manhattan. I think it was faster when Benjamin Franklin was the postmaster general, almost 250 years ago.

I made copies of the document and informed the inhuman resources director that I would drop them off tomorrow. Then minutes later I decided to not wait until tomorrow and just go in an get it done today. The inhuman resources director was confused by this and wound up calling me when I was on my way to the Path train.

She told me earlier that she would be in a meeting and would not be able to see me, but would send her assistant and offered to give her number to me. I told her I was walking to the train and told her to text me and of course, she didn’t. She asked how long the trip would take and I told her it would depend on the train.

Then Raoul got involved as the train pulled into the final destination. I didn’t realize it then but the inhuman resources director more than likely roped him in to meet with me. They are still somewhat afraid of me I reckon, not that I did anything violent, just words, only words. They seem to be erring on the side of caution.

It was brief seeing Raoul again. I met him my the lobby desk manned by the ever affable Sam. He was happy to see me and told me he missed out on our little chats when I would go out on a break.

Raoul seemed happy to see me as well. Or maybe glad to see me. I took a photo of Raoul holding my signed document and was soon out the door wishing them a merry Christmas. I also stopped by the deli to tell the salad guy goodbye, explaining that I was let go.

The cashier thought I was lying and I explained why I wasn’t. She was never a favorite of mine, and where in better times I spent about $12.00 a day plus a $2.00 tip for the salad guy. He used to include a chopped egg in my salad and one day when the cashier was new, saw it and added $1.00 to the bill.

I was shaken from my stupor and was somewhat indignant. Of course, I paid, and found that a co-worker saw the whole thing and labeled me a ‘Karen’ since I ‘made a scene’. I laid low for a week or two, coming back for my usual sans egg. I wasn’t spending $3000 a year on salad anymore.

Leo Jon Otho was upset. It was another day of the same thing. Out of work again, he started to know what the day of the week was when he remembered what he watched the night before of TV.

Leo did not like this sign of redundancy from the employment rolls. He did maintain a proper sleep schedule, the same time 7 days a week, going to sleep and waking up on schedule.

Leo walked around town most of the time, weather permitting. He was surprised and upset by a sign advertising apartments in town with one-bedroom apartments starting at $4100. Being across the river from a metropolis the high cost of living was somewhat expected.

In Leo’s case, it was all in the timing. He moved to town about 40 years ago. The entire town was different. There was an arts vibe, with artists, musicians, actors, writers, film directors, and the like. It was only a matter of time before the lure of the metropolis drew young people who may have overheard Leo saying it was a great place to live.

Maybe it was destiny. When Leo and his crowd were running all over town, the economy subtly improved. Where that crowd saw the beauty of decay, other interests, some born and raised and some speculators from elsewhere saw things to be torn down and replaced by bright and shiny buildings.

Mom and Pop stores, and funky boutiques were to be overtaken by stores that people were comfortable with in the suburbs and brought to town as commercial creature comforts. The cash-in of the Gold Coast proved to be inevitable.

The way things used to be when people got married, if they had kids they would usually move to the suburbs and raise their children in a free range environment. Loyang Marthe and ET Jams Ramos did that, married, had kids, moved to the suburbs, and then came back to the delight of everyone.

ET Jams Ramos had a resurgence in the cultured field he had plowed for so long. It seemed like there was always a gentleman farmer, always busy, always contributing, always creating.

Leo did not see Loyang Marthe that often. They both enjoy each other’s company but circumstances and going through their lives limited their encounters.

Leo kept himself occupied as much as possible. Sometimes he succeeded and sometimes his arm got tired. So many streaming services compete for Leo’s attention and Leo watches his own creature comforts of TV shows he watched when he was growing up.

The neighbors in Leo’s building were nice. Not very loud and not very noticeable. Non-descript would be an apt word to describe them, Leo thought. He didn’t mean it as an insult but rather a description of people who really don’t interact with other building dwellers.

Leo was drawing from memories of the building’s tenants who were friends, if not friendly. But that was the 20th century and here Leo Jon Otho was in the 21st century, at wit’s end.
Or perhaps, better yet, wit’s beginning.