Time To Go

 

It's Thursday and I woke up at around 11:30 in the morning.

Harold was asleep beside me; there were lights on, and there was a song loaded into my editor that had been playing over and over since I had fallen asleep.

I couldn't remember much of the previous day and the empty brandy bottle in the trash was one of the first clues I found towards piecing the events of Wednesday together.

For my "3 things I am happy and grateful for" I immediately thought of the fine new tire that was waiting to go on the bike.

I had carried the flat one to Patrick's house, where that worthy got to work in immediately, fetching a couple candidates for the replacement tire from what looked like a bicycle junkyard in one of his rooms.

As I sipped brandy, Patrick put a new tire on my rim, and gave me the good news that his great niece was going to give him a thousand dollars to replace the electric motor powered tricycle that was stolen from in front of his house from the same spot where I had previously had a brand new beach cruiser type bike stolen.

His great niece is going to get some kind of Mastercard and is going to take the thousand bucks off of it, whereupon Patrick will begin to pay down that balance. So she is going to be the middle man between Patrick and Mastercard. Since Patrick's money is guaranteed by the government, she has very little to worry about in terms of having her credit score ruined, unless Patrick dies, or something. Even in that case, she could probably sell whatever bike he gets, along with his 90 gallon aquarium, his acoustic guitar, etc.

I carried the new tire and tube on the rim back to my place, where I apparently ate a bunch of food and then started to work on the audio file that came from the photo at the top.

I have a few ideas. But, it is Thursday, and my plasma donation date, and I have a little less than 2 hours to get there.

Not to worry, though, because I have discovered that, no matter which bus I take across the river and wherever it drops me off, I can ride to the plasma place from there, and make it in time. I don't have to wait for the specific bus that drops me at the Wal-Mart right down the street from Octapharma. I can get off all the way over by Howard's former residence, after a 15 minute ride across the river and then ride 3 miles to the place, arriving there before the 115 even shows up on the Canal Street side of the river....

Well, as much as I would love to sit here and watch NewsMax a little longer (I love the MyPillow commercials) I had better start pedaling towards the  bus stop. It sucks that I can't stop and get drunk on a couple beers before proceeding to the plasma place. And then, after donating, the resulting dehydration makes it less fun to drink; with less less euphoria and the procession to the state of confusion and lack of control being accelerated.

Well, time to go...