Suddenly Normal

There was no raffle in morning meeting today.

There were no calisthenics at the bedside.
There was no shower in the early morning.
There was no reading of the Intelligencer.
There was no going to Starbucks or Think Coffee.

There was nothing save for the slow groggy climb from sleep. I overslept again and this time I was tired when awakening. I don't know why, I was in a good mood when I went to sleep, there were no nightmares I even had some good news. As I was reading and writing last night, I came across this email in my inbox:

"Dear Mr.Hobobob: First and foremost, thank you for expressing interest in writing", and then they go into an explanation of what they are and what they report on. The type of webpage that they are and so forth. Then: "All we ask is that you write at least but not limited to one story/article/interview a week between 500/1000 words. We do encourage creativity and will allow you to come up with your own ideas for content, pending our approval."

Just down my mother- fucking alley. Now I don't have to find someone else's idea as to what should go into an article. I can find my own. It goes on further to state: We "certainly appreciate[s] all your enthusiasm and your submissions. We would like for all people still interested, please to reply to us so we can set up an interview."

So I applied for a fucking interview of course. So you see, I was in a good mood when I hit the hay. AND I did turn in before midnight, which is early for me, and I still wake up like ass. I rolled over. This was not going to be a day for exercise. Not a chance. Maybe if I had started with pushups and then flowed into situps and back exercises, I might have gotten them done. But no, I instead, rose and stumbled to the john.

It was a slow going morning. It took me forever to do anything. I felt like two hours elapsed just to take a shave. When it was time for the Morning Meeting, I was late and had to stand in a space in the middle of the room. Wendy, the Wicked Witch of the West was breezing by today. I noticed that she had nothing to say to Igor as he sat on his bed and gleefully went online with his laptop. Shit! If he can do it, I can. I set up my folding table, whipped out my baby, and got online quicker than you can throw a fit.

Suddenly my day was normal again. Everything suddenly snapped into place. Everything was instantly where it should be.

"Hey Hobobob," it was Igor, walking up towards my bed. In his hands he fumbled with an average white envelope. "I got my pay for doing a little something at work. You know?" He holds out the envelope under my nose and opens it. Inside there is a check for over $500.00. That's good for you there, Igor. "Yeah," Igor replies, returning the envelope into his back pocket. "I have to go out and do something, you know?" I nod. "I can 't just stay here doing nothing all day like these other guys." I hear you. Then I think.

This must be spillover from the conver- sation that we had yesterday morning when I was intentionally vague where I was going. He no doubt figured that I was going to work. This was possibly his way of saying that we are one in the same. That we both are working men and making a living. But this is the funny thing. He is making a living. A check for five hundred dollars is called: MONEY. When you have pocket dollars, that's called CASH. I make CASH for working one day a week. Igor has MONEY.

I'm not resentful. I've had money before and I did fine. I spent it as fast as I could make it, but I've had money. I don't resent others for it. I congratulated Igor in his financial security and finished packing up. I waved him goodbye and headed out about my business.

I caught the Way and got to the library too early to stand outside in front of the building, but too late to go to Starbucks and get a coffee. But then I decided that it was never too late to go and pick up some joe and get back online. So I did, and when it came time to go into the library, I simply continued to sip. Electra was there slumped in a chair, sleeping before a table across the establishment from me. I chose not to wake her.

I jacked in was surfing right away.

That's the answer to all of life's woes.
A steaming hot cup of joe and a hot Internet connection.

Hobobob