I didn't get to a Gay-A meeting and I didn't get to a gym because I picked up more work yesterday today and tomorrow. Which was totally unexpected because usually there is very little event or banquet work the week before a big holiday weekend. And lest I be accused of not liking to work, I happily accepted all of these jobs and wisely opted to jump on some shifts and try and put together a couple of weeks of decent paychecks. It's possible that the agency I work for is being a little nice to me because I let them know I got screwed six ways to Sunday last week, or maybe the Universe is just giving me a little yang to go with my yin.
I had no idea how much I had grown to depend on the now defunct Blooming House Farms until they unexpectedly closed. Yesterday's routine was a series of fits and starts as I wasn't able to run next door for a coffee and newspaper, or chips to go with my sandwich, or V8 and a bagel, or an end of night ice cream bar. Even Riley seemed confused when I didn't stop and tie him to the parking sign out front. I mean, it's certainly not the only place in Manhattan I can buy those things, but it was literally just right there. I had practically worn a path from my front door by now.