Saturday 46°. Hanging with Mike. Bill is steadily heading home. Last night was out of the ordinary. The day was not that good. Plans made with Mike fell through which did not make me feel good and that was a cloud hanging over my head. Nothing that he did, just a victim of circumstance, out of his control since he was controlled by something else.

I did my usual thing, a trip to the supermarket where I bought more than my bag could handle. Then the despair of looking for a job for myself, looking for a job for Mike, and looking at Bill on the road. I decided to make dinner for myself, the Saturday menu. I made enough for two but ate for one and put the rest in the fridge.

I decided to attend a cigar social in Manhattan. There was a plan to do it in December with Bill and Mike when we did the Rockefeller Xmas tree thing but the weather was cold and wet and miserable. Since there was nothing to do last night I took it upon myself to go by myself. The weather was good, cool it was not raining and there was no real reason not to.

Being a senior citizen in the eyes of NJ Transit meant my fare was $1.75. I rode the bus to the Port Authority, looking like a thick Mick, cable sweater, blue jeans, work boots, and a pea coat. I looked good. I trod across town, retracing routes that I used to use when going to work, a walk down 41st Street to Bryant Park, to Grand Central Station for a shortcut of sorts, winding up on Lexington Ave.

I rolled a joint and lit up as I approached East 49th Street to pay respects to Stephen Sondheim’s former residence. Then it was up five blocks, up Second Avenue to Casa de Montecristo where there were a few online cigar buddies, Jack and the one and only Von Harris. I bought 2 cigars to join the festivities.

I had some Woodford Reserve that was supplied by Jack MacCullum the host. There were other liquors available but I wisely had the one that I had the last time I was at this location 13 years ago. I may have written about it back then. We sat and chatted, with Jack, Sean, Von, and his roommate Tawana.

It was a smoky establishment but no one cared. It was fairly crowded with some good looking gents coming and going. I was quite charming I must say and happy that Jack had gotten most, if not all, of my jokes. That was an intellectual turn-on.

Sean had left and I was soon to go after that, making my farewells to a group that I made friends with just 90 minutes earlier. The Woodford Reserve left me with a warm, pleasant buzz and I headed home, looking like someone that you wouldn’t want to fuck with.

I walked down to the PATH train before the 11 PM changeover so it was a not too crowded train to Hoboken. The worst of it was returning to Hoboken with young drunkards being loud and rowdy on the streets, coming close to starting trouble and shouting at various passersby.

My armor of the ‘Don’t Fuck with Me’ look worked quite well. I came home and spoke with Bill on the phone as well as a call with Mike. The second cigar in my pocket vanished somewhere and I’m not sure exactly where. I’d like to think it was here in the apartment but it seems unlikely as I grumbled like Roy Kent, saying ‘Fuck’ every now and then.

Wednesday night. Later than usual. Raining at 53°. Mike’s asleep, Bill is asleep where he is, he might have the flu. I am here writing and Casablanca plays on TCM. My day was absolutely nothing special. Woke up later than usual, had coffee, and sent out resumes as well as searching for jobs on behalf of Mike.

The job search is never a fun thing and I added the lack of fun to my burden by helping Mike out. His situation is different from mine, so there’s that.

The world is sliding into disaster it seems. I think it’s all Putin’s plan, to undermine the trust Americans have in their government and have the rest of the world distrust us. Apparently, L’Orange Merde spewed forth for almost 2 hours last night.

I wisely avoided the whole car accident. But it was the main topic as I attempted to watch the 11 O’Clock News before going to bed. Since they were rambling I saw no need to watch anymore.

The skies were grey all day and a major storm was approaching. There was a plan to meet up with Mike after he gets off work and of course, the skies opened up as I walked towards Jersey City.

My 22 year old umbrella from the Wanker Banker Putnam Lovell days was open and overhead as I walked thinking how good this umbrella has been. Just then, when crossing the street the wind said ‘Hold my beer’ and proceeded to tear apart the 22 year old umbrella rendering it absolutely un-fixable.

I was halfway to meeting Mike and carried on toward Jersey City. I was wearing work boots and a raincoat so I wasn’t that wet but still, it was an annoyance leading me to be in a not so good mood.

I went into Target thinking I would buy a new umbrella but seeing the prices and knowing I had 5 other umbrellas at home, I balked and waited for Mike. He wanted to take a Lyft and I was in a foul mood thinking I would walk home in the pouring windy rain.

Mike had an umbrella so he was fine. I was going to cut off my nose to spite my face and decided to get a Lyft instead. I tried advising the driver on how to avoid traffic but he did not speak English. Mike and I had a heavy talk, foregoing our phones and computers, and TV to talk about religion and mythology.

It reminded me of my early days, being in my 20s and having deep philosophical discussions. Then we ate dinner and watched Ted Lasso.

I do hope Bill gets over what may be the flu. He did get a flu shot so perhaps this might not be as bad as an unvaccinated flu victim. He didn’t mention other things that accompany the flu, like nausea or back door problems to put it delicately, so he might just be fatigued.

It happens sometimes when one hits a certain age and his job is stressful. I miss him and can’t wait for his return.