On Friday I performed at The Dramatists Guild of America in NYC, and it went well. The Guild is at 1501 Broadway, which happens to be in the same building where my first NYC job was.
It’s one of my favorite times of year when the weather gets a bit warmer and the cherry trees bloom.
Today I made my way to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden and a handful of cherries were in full bloom.
Their cherry esplanade is something to behold and I will be watching their bloom tracker to make sure I catch the upcoming flower explosion. But, while I wait, this was a nice teaser.
There is a woman who comes to the Wednesday 60-minute yoga class, who always sets up by me. She is shorter than me by about a foot, but we both have similar hair cuts.
Last night I was on my way home from dinner at a friend’s house and there was a man on the train singing his favorite songs in full voice. The man, from what I believe is on the spectrum, and his singing was short bursts of melody with indecipherable lyrics.
Yesterday, someone took the 2 train and did a number 2 on the train and smeared it around causing delays during rush hour. Luckily, I worked from home yesterday and it didn’t affect my commute. However, I laughed my ass off at the news report.
You can’t make this shit up.
News article HERE.
Today was the second day in a row that the MTA decided to make my morning a living hell.
St. Patrick’s Day in NYC.
I am on a bus that takes about 40-minutes to go 5 miles. With the wait and the ride, it may have been quicker to walk.
But it’s cold outside.
Our apartment flooded on Tuesday due to an issue in an apartment 3 floors up from ours. We weren’t home when it happened, so we missed the excitement of the water running down our walls but we saw the aftermath.
Our favorite neighbor stopped by today to give me some roach bait that she had promised to give me. I didn’t really want it, because we have fantastic bait that we use, but she was forcing her kindness on me and I had to accept.
She rang the bell while I was on a work video call and I excused myself and went to get the door. There was a cardboard tray in her hand with the bait labeled in juice bottle caps.
As she was explaining what to do, my mind started wondering back to the conference call I was missing, and I snapped back into the conversation when my neighbor started screaming and running towards the stairwell.
I yelled, “Ms. Levy, what’s wrong?”
She was cowering halfway down the hallway, pointing into our apartment. Her reaction was so dramatic I thought she had seen a murderer or a ghost in our apartment.
Having this realization, I turned around to make sure I was safe and I saw my orange cat sitting there staring out the door at this screaming woman.
I laughed because it was all so ridiculous. She was upset that I laughed and she yelled, “I’m afraid of cats. I’ve got to go.”
As she scrambled up the stairs, I shut the door and hid the bait in a high place so the cats couldn’t get at it. I returned to my laptop, I saw that I hadn’t muted my microphone and everyone on the meeting most likely heard the whole ordeal.
They were kind enough to not say anything.
After a few hours I found a note under my door from my neighbor explaining the bait and the post script said: “I don’t like cats. I don’t know why, I just never have.”