Shaken and Stirred

I'm shaken and stirred.

Like James Bond does and doesn't like his martinis. It's 9:45PM and I'm still sitting in Madison Avenue's Starbucks. I'm going to stay until ten, and yet, I fear that something bad is going to happen to me as I return home. My curfew is still on my mind. I'm somewhat of a wreck. I find it hard to concentrate, but as I type in my thoughts to paper my stirrings gel. I can focus on my work. My writing.

My coordinator from the shelter contacts me through email, stating that she will come to visit all of us on Friday at noon. She wonders if I could tell everyone that she would be coming and could they be there. It's late here, that means I'll be knocking on their doors by 11:00PM or early when I leave in the morning around 8:00AM. I'm wondering on which one to do. What is more of an imposition, late at night or early in the morning? Shit, how do I get saddled with these things?

I hang out with my brother some. We go to Duane Reade to both pick up dinner. I picked up sardines and spam, I don't know what he picked up. We walk up to Grand Central reminiscing about the past, and part at the train station. I hit the Way, traveling across town on the shuttle, then uptown on the 3 train. As I walk through the New York cold, I notice on my watch that it was nearly 11:00PM. I hit the front door vestibule of the spot and someone leaving holds the door open for me. When I look into the guard station, I find the guard napping. Rapping my knuckles on the window wakes him up, but before he could buzz me in, another emerging tenant held the door open for me. I walk through, and that was that.

All the stress of getting home late was unfounded. In the elevator I decide not to go ringing peoples bells with the good news that our coordinator was coming over tomorrow. I'll get up a little later tomorrow and ring their doorbells then. Around 8:00, a decent morning hour.

I enter into my little room and feel good. It's hot and the refrigerator is hotter, but I'm in love with it. By opening the window I balance out the temperature, and then sit down to a bachelors dinner of crackers, spam and sardines, followed by crackers and jam. Yum.

I scan the room for a WIFI signal and up pops @home, loud and clear and running at a respectable 11megs. It flaps a lot, but who cares. I'm in touch with the entire world. I write emails and listen to Internet radio until late in the evening because I don't have anyone here to tell me to turn off the lights, although I seldom put on the room light. I like more ambient light, and turn on the microwave light to light up the room, along with a scented candle.

I type until tired.

I crawl into bed. Tomorrow will be a busy day. Well, I cut down on some of the action by canceling my doctor's appointment via email. I don't really get the big deal about cell phones and communications. I find that email is far superior because you are never an imposition to talk to. People GO to read their emails when they WANT to. Therefore they read your requests on THEIR time. Whereas, a phone call can be inconvenient, a fucking annoyance at times. I find I get more done through email than I do on a phone. Everything should be done through email, it's just more efficient.

Well whatever. I cancel my doctor's appoint- ment. If not, I would have to go downtown, to come back uptown for the meeting with the coordinator, to go back downtown for my therapy session. A lot of traveling for just one day. I need to cut down on such antics. I'm not as young as I used to be.

Hobobob