Strange surroundings

I stayed up late last night.

I stayed on IM with a friend. While on the doorbell rang. I answered it and found one of the three people that moved in with me from the Box. Let's call him Raoul. Raoul stood there, nervous to be ringing my bell like a new Jehovah's Witness, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. Yeah?

He began in tortured English, his command of the language weak, his words heavily accented. "Did you pick up you' letter?" I understood that. He was referring to the transfer letter that we were supposed to take to Social Services for the One Shot Deal. I had took a nap this afternoon after moving in and slept till late. No, I didn't pick mine up, did you? "Yes, I have mine," he replied carefully. "You goin' tomorrow?" Well, are they closed downstairs now? He nodded. Shit! I'll just have to go and pick it up tomorrow.

He nodded, then hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the door across the hall from mine. "Where is she?" She, meaning the other person in our party of three. I was lucky enough to have the apartment across from her. Oh joy. Let's call her Paula. Isn't she there? "She must have gone out," he backs up. "Do you need a broom? Cleaning materials for you' floor. I have some." No thank you, I'm fine. He waves and walks off. I return to IMing. I was fucked, so what.

I would have to go to back to Social Services, which I will call from this point on The Night- marish Pit Of Fucking Doom. Or just TNPFD when I get tired. I had just been there to pick up my Budget Letter, and I thought that was that, but no. I would have to repeat my anal fucking merrily. Now, you see how it was getting there at 8:30 in the morning. Just think of all the fun I would have in the morning when I would have to wait to pick up my letter and THEN head out to The Nightmarish Pit of Fucking Doom. The troglodytes there would have multiplied, quadraplied even, the lines would be longer, the wait insufferable. No, I would not bother going tomorrow unless I had to.

I returned to IMing. At around 1:00 I called it quits. It was indeed a pleasure to stay up for as long as I wanted. I felt like the little boy who stays up all night watching TV because their parents weren't home. I fell asleep as soon as my head it the pillow and woke up twice as fast. It was Six AM. I looked around, it was still dark in my room. Fuck this. I put my head back on the pillow and called it a morning. When I awoke again it was 8:00AM. I jumped up and got ready, taking my baby and heading out for the day. I got downstairs to find the office closed. I went to another office, not knowing the difference between the two. Once there I ran into the same large, smiling woman who was at my interview. She was still warm as a Summer's Breeze. That's what I'm calling her. Summer's Breeze came up to me, addressed my questions and then invited me into a lunch room where I could have breakfast and take a bag lunch. I do both, finding a bagel and cream cheese, coffee and a bag of grub.

I eat slowly and when done, checked the office it was Nine. It was still closed. It was time for me to take a walk. Stepping outside I was hit by a cold blast of air. The summer sun was now the weak autumnal glow. It gave off no heat, leaving us in the chill of the day. Whew it was cold out. But I was glad because it could have been colder. Wintertime was not here yet. I went to Duane Reade to pick up my prescriptions and the 'Black Woman' came out of the back room. You know the one that I'm talking about. All attitude. She comes out dealing with me as if I was a problem and not the prescriptions.

"You were here dropping off prescrip- tions for two people," she accuses. No, I reply calmly. One of the prescriptions was in my first name, the other in my second. "Well we can't take them like that. It has to be first name only. I called your doctor but he didn't answer all day." I see. I flash her my Social Security card. It's me. "I have to clear it with your doctor first." Well, he should be in today. "If he is, you can pick them up later." Great.

I leave the Bat, and return to the office, finding it still locked. While standing there for a second, the elevator opens and Paula walks out. Just my luck. "Hey, have you gotten your letter yet?" No, I'm down here for it now. Did you get yours? "No, I'm just coming down here for mine too." Well, when I get it, I'm still going tomorrow. Duffield Street Social Services is a madhouse after 9:00. "You can say that again, but I'm still going. I want my One Shot Deal." And you're going to deal with all of that madness? "Yes, I'll stand on them lines and everything. I want to get this over with."

I want to get it over with. I think about her words, but I don't want to deal with those fuckers at The Nightmarish Pit of Doom unless I had to. I go upstairs and kill time in my room, sorting through my prescriptions and then went back downstairs to get my letter. I asked the secretary if it would be possible for me to go and take care of the letter tomorrow and he said yes, which was all I needed. Fuck TNPFD! I'll deal with it early in the morning after a good night's sleep.

The State makes it that way you know. You have to really be desperate to deal with their shit. Really desperate.

I must be really desperate.

Hobobob