Where to begin?
Having had my first night sleep without my other half in a week, I awoke this AM to a steady diet of to-do items speeding through the synapses. I must confess the first conscious thought I had before the fog lifted was turning over to kiss her good morning, but by the time I actually turned in her direction, I realized she was 3,000 miles away and not in my bed. Not a very pleasant way to wake up, unfortunately.
The day was filled with busy-ness. On a work level, I had one thing to handle after another; in fact, I didn't even end up going into the office directly. I started my day on a subway downtown and spent a few hours running around between three different City offices, a rat in a maze chasing a rapidly-molding nub of cheese. By the time I finished my out-of-office errands, I returned to another half-dozen matters of varying priority, but each needed to be addressed in some way, shape or form this afternoon, so I went down the list one by one and wrapped them up as best as I could. Some are still unfinished as I'm still waiting for papers, information, material or items not in my possession. Tomorrow's another day.
On top of that, I had bank business to attend to, plans to shuffle and/or set up, and in addition, my other half had an awful cold that made her sound somewhere south of a full-on soul brotha. Raspy, scratchy and breathy, talking to her was bittersweet: not only did I find myself missing her being here and in my presence, I felt badly even keeping her on the phone for a minute, between the coughs, sniffles and the throat-clearing. So that was a conundrum -- talk to her on the phone or allow her to rest her voice and to recuperate -- that plagued me for much of the day. Since she's unwell she was forced to postpone her surgery to next Friday, and I felt badly because I know her trip to NYC -- and not her sharing kisses with her nephews -- was the cause. Everything perhaps for a reason, but next time I know to make sure she's drinking tea (Tazo) and stocked with cough drops (Ricola) and feeling good during and after her all-too-brief days and nights in NYC.
After work I went to my sister's to meet up with her boyfriend to work on his ailing PC. He wasn't exactly sure what the problem was, but he was sure the PC was FUBAR and nowhere near working. After a couple hours, I got it in working shape and he'll be able to limp onto the Internet with it, but it's on its last legs and needs replacing. The trick will be to get the hard drive from the existing soon-to-be doorstop into the new machine, make sure it's virus-free, copy everything over to the new machine, then remove the old drive and throw it as hard as possible up against a wall.
While (or soon after) we were wrapping up the convalescence of the bad PC, we scored some rockin' pizza (sausage, peppers and mushrooms) and watched the Yankees tank the game (and the series) against the Kansas City Royals, by far the worst team in baseball. The real kick in the happies, of course, is that yesterday -- June 1st -- the Yankees were 4.5 games out of first place. Thanks to their ineptitude against KC, they're going to be 5 or 6 games out by June 4th, the day my bet with my other half's dad comes to fruition. That means, thanks to a three-game shit-fest against an awful team, I'm out a Jackson and most of my patience. Watching them lose four straight to the (blech) Red Sox last year was bad; watching this, day after day, is atrocious. I'm wondering when Mount Steinbrenner explodes -- I'm guessing, if the Yankees lose another 8 of 10 over the next three (out-of-town) series, it will happen upon their return to the Bronx. Odds are Joe Torre and a few of the higher-priced, glaring mistakes (read: Giambi, Bernie) will be treated by King George much as a diaper is treated by a baby.
Tomorrow's another day, and I'm a bit tired so I'm looking forward to a relatively mellow weekend. I'm not too anxious to spend it without my other half, especially knowing she's sick and therefore not able to see anyone. I'll soon be sleeping with her on my mind and hoping she's feeling better and counting down the days until she again is gracing my life from arm's length.
Thanks to my other half, I surfed to a combo store (both click-and-order and brick-and-mortar) called Charles Tyrwhitt which I've added to the BoogieLinks section. Kaia sent me an e-mail detailing their Spring sale (on top of their 50% First Purchase Offer), and since I've been wanting to get a few new dress shirts (some were downright inexpensive), I stopped by and took the plunge. The brick-and-mortar store, funny enough, is located in NYC at 50th and Madison, less than two blocks from the W New York where we were a week ago tonight. It's a menswear shop in the vein of Pink, though less known, and more specialized and less conservative than Paul Stuart. They also sell stuff for women and children, but buying anything but men's stuff from them is sort of like bringing a bowling ball on a fishing trip. The bottom line: if you've got a guy in your life for whom you need/want to shop, be advised -- their stuff is wonderful but pricey. So click at your own risk.
That's about it for now...I'm way too tired to be coherent, and I've got a weekend of relaxation (and a visit to Costco) to contemplate. Between that and my sick honey, I've got plenty on tap to keep my head busy for awhile. I'll be back later, if not sooner.