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I Got A Feeling In My Body

Once again, I am writing this at work. The camera will see me at the computer, but since I am not online per se, it really shouldn’t matter. I could always say I am sharpening my typing skills. So far no typos either which is out of the ordinary.

It’s been an interesting day to say the least. First off it was Calvin free (‘exactly’), but nervous laughter happens to most everyone sometimes and I’ve noticed the Thomas does it too. Bill does it as well but of course with Bill, I find it endearing.

And the day started with waking up to the terrible news of the earthquake off the coast of Japan. 8.9! Crazy. Not so much levity on the Today show, they were somewhat solemn. But the footage was intense. Houses, trucks and cars being swept away by the tsunami, like so many toys strewn across a floor.

Hundreds missing, perhaps swept out to sea. I couldn’t help but think that the time will come soon enough for an earthquake to strike this tri-state area. And of course that was on my mind most of the morning.

Waiting for the bus, keeping an eye on the birds since I heard that they will all take off, animals will start behaving strangely right before an earthquake. I waited for the Hoboken Daily News building to start swaying. And then it was a ride through the Lincoln Tunnel where I was sure it was going to collapse.

Then a walk through the bus terminal, followed by the subway where I was sure I was going to be in the real life version of the movie of the week from the 1970’s, where an earthquake struck Manhattan leaving passengers in the tunnels and for some reason they had to get across the East River, to Brooklyn.

I would be playing the Karen Valentine part, or the troubled boy with a junkie dog. Or more than likely, Karen Valentine playing the junkie dog.

When I got to the building I called Bill as is my wont, and he told me not to kill anyone at the cigar shack. And I hadn’t thought about that as I stood outside the glass towers that house the cigar shack. But it threw me off and I didn’t recognize Bill trying to cheer me up.

I am so not a morning person, but I would probably be more of a better morning person if I had a better job. But here I am stuck in a cigar shack and not liking it. I used to think it would be the best job since I do enjoy cigars, and maybe it is at other cigar shops, just not this one.

I apologized a few times to Bill, for being such a neurotic bitch and he accepted, in fact he knows it comes with the territory. He loves me despite the fact that a lot of the time I do not love myself. Make that most of the time.

And Bill has been good at greeting me at the door when I come home, offering hugs, taking my bag off my shoulder. Tonight when I need it most, for real since I feel like I am thisclose to breaking down, he’s not around. And I suppose that’s alright since with the mood I am in, I wouldn’t want to see me either.

I did run into Hyman Gross on the bus once more. He tried to cheer me up after I stomped my way down the avenue in 16 minutes 30 seconds from the cigar shop to the bus terminal. Listened to the Sex Pistols, from Holidays in the Sun to halfway through God Save the Queen.

By the time I saw Hyman I was still in no mood despite his efforts. On the bus Hyman chatted up a young woman with a pillow that had I Love You embroidered on it. I avoided eye contact with everyone and did not pay attention to their conversation. I was probably the best for all concerned.

I do need a hug, or rather I did need a hug, but the moment has passed and now I am home, alone.

I Believe in the Man in the Sky

OK, its 10:19 and I just got home a few minutes ago. It hasn’t been such a bad day. ‘Always room for improvement’ which is what I say lately when someone asks how I’m doing. And of course, there is always room for improvement.

Last night Bill came home from the play Ankhst, feeling sick as a dog and holding a bottle of Nyquil. I prefer to go to bed after Bill goes to bed and he was waiting for the Nyquil to kick in. I suggested that as usual he would fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he didn’t see it that way.

Being sick, he did not think it would work. I waited for him to go to sleep before I joined him in bed. He was wearing his mouth guard to help prevent his snoring, but of course by the time I made it to bed, he was snoring. I nudged him, told him out loud he was snoring but it had no effect.

He snored all night, leaving me to wake up crabby and without enough sleep. He was apologetic when I told him before heading off to work at the cigar shack, and said he would make sure it didn’t happen tonight.

After last week’s debacle with work, someone (perhaps drunkenly) putting the wrong hours into the wrong Excel spreadsheet cell, I was a bit anxious to get to work on time. The bus arrived as it should have and I sat in the back watching the bus get more crowded at each stop.

No one I knew on the bus and there hardly ever is, so I stared out the window as we drove past the Burlington Coat factory, the site of my excursion yesterday. We were at the bus terminal in no time and I strolled through, headed to the subway.

Some guys singing Tracks of My Tears, accompanied by a stand up bassist. They sounded good enough to warrant me throwing a dollar in their collective hat. I was soon inside the cigar shack, working with Calvin and Thomas, the new guy.

Thomas used to sell shirts and suits and now he’s selling cigars. A safety net made of tobacco I suppose, caught me and now it caught Thomas. Calvin was in the humidor and to my surprise in walked Donald the K, someone I used to work with and who I’ve been corresponding with lately.

It was good to see him and it seemed he was happy to see me. He and his wife are now empty nesters and lately they find themselves strolling the shopping area on weekends. It was a brief visit and I told him I would call him later next week.

Thomas was fun to work with and the cigar shack was fairly busy. With three of us working, that meant I was actually able to leave the cigar shack for an hour for lunch. Been a while since I was able to do that. It really breaks up the day.

I was even able to go to the internet café and do whatever it is that I do online for 10 minutes. Now I’m home again, Bill is still in the play. He told me they cut the play from 3 hours to 2.5 hours including the 10 minute intermission. I just hope he is feeling better.

Tomorrow is Sunday and so I don’t think I will be writing. Unless there is something to write about. And I have my doubts that there will be. But I could be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.

It’s all so Bala Cynwyd sometimes, isn’t it? I blame the solar storm.