Here I am, with a full floor of a Lower Manhattan/FiDi District office buiding almost all to myself. Circumstances are different now. It turns out the sirens and alarms and flashing lights that blasted off last week were enough for authorities to change seating arrangements on the weekends. The alarms ended up being about nothing but the incident was at least taken somewhat seriously by whoever is in charge of this place. Yesterday the new seating arrangement occurred but today no one is following the directive for a variety of annoying reasons and that leaves me here with a faint voice of one other person at the far east end of the building competing with the musical ear syndrome drivel that is gushing out of the air conditioner vents. The music from the vents sounds like drunks at a bar singing war music. I popped an extra med for feeling really twitchy, then took a catastrophic dump that begged for a couple of kitchen match ignitions to extinguish the acridity of the stench. That’s a trick, you know. Leave a box of kitchen matches by the shitter and when somebody lets go an especially putrid-smelling bowel evacuation you simply light one of those kitchen matches and the stench magically evaporates. I needed a couple of those matches today. Feelingsomewhat better now, not sure if its the extra med or the monster bowel movement.
Ending my most likely futile pursuit of who I now know to be a married or engaged woman frees me to pursue more flexible travel options in the AM. It’s getting darker again and today’s police activity has me reconsidering the N to R switcheroo. Such contemplations. Ack, there is now somebody sitting right behind me and talking loudly and she will be for some time. Oh well.