Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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Thursday, June 28 2012
I had a meeting in Manhattan scheduled for 11am, so I had to start my day somewhat earlier than usual. I slept down in the larger of the two basement guest rooms and the alarm went off at 6:30am. I managed to get to the Kingston bus station early enough to catch the 7:30 bus. On the drive into town, I still had that problem in my ears. It made the radio sound both tinny and ringy at the same time, making me feel on-edge and not quite as grounded as I like to be when I am operating a motor vehicle. I found myself hoping that whatever was wrong was a temporary thing and not (as with the arrival of vastly more floaters in my eyes back in 2007) the onset of a new, less perfect normal.
During the two hour bus ride into the city, the hum of the wheels on the roadway didn't sound as unpleasant as I expected it to given the condition of my ears. And by the time I got out of the bus at Port Authority, whatever had been wrong seemed to have mercifully corrected itself.
After I got out of the subway near the office where my meetings were scheduled, I found myself wondering what the Supreme Court had decided regarding the constitutionality of Obamacare. Hoping for a clue one way or the other, I found myself looking at the other pedestrians to see what expressions were on their faces. For the most part they seemed a little glum, which I took to be bad news since I imagined Manhattanites to be disproportionately in favor of Obamacare. But once I actually got into the office and was able to check the internet, I found that, against all odds, Obamacare had been deemed constitutional. This made me happy. Though I'm not a fan of the compromises necessary to get Obamacare through Congress, I regard it as a first imperfect step in the right direction. The Supreme Court deeming it unconstitutional would have meant that America had entered an unworkable phase in its history wherein it had been rendered incapable of solving its most egregious problems.
There were actually two meetings today punctuated by a quick lunch at Two Boots, the gourmet pizza place where vegan pizza by the slice is always an option. I was actually feeling a little on top of things because I'd stayed up late last night getting some backend work completed and documented, but perhaps my confidence had me acting a bit like an asshole. For example, in describing an upcoming trip to the Pacific Northwest, I casually said that Seattle "sucked" in comparison to Portland, only to learn that one of my colleagues was from Seattle. Lesson learned: never, no matter how on top of things one feels, say a city sucks, even just in comparison to another city. Another thing not to do is say that a lot of work makes one feel "tired," something the second meeting saw me saying. I should have added that this was probably just the pizza talking, but I didn't.
When the meetings were over, I cut loose early and hit the streets. I'd seen a kitchen supply place in nearby Soho that looked promising, so I ducked in and immediately had the assistance of a saleslady who somehow managed to sell me a $200 juicer. Gretchen and I have been looking for a quality juicer for months, and this one seemed to be perfect. When I was in the store, I felt a little like an actor playing the role of a Manhattan shopper, and as part of that role I asked for the juicer to be shipped to Hurley so I wouldn't have to carry it around for the rest of my time in the city.
From Soho, I walked into the East Village and then back to Broadway. I had it in my mind that I would stop into a bar for a beer at some point, but it was still too early in the afternoon, so I ended up in a coffee shop instead buying an ice coffee. I assumed at first that they would also have a bathroom, but somehow all the doors said "employees only" on them, so I had to hold my piss and hope for a Starbucks. It turns out that there aren't any Starbucks in the East Village. There is one at Union Square, but the line for the one unisex bathroom was absurdly long. The best choice for a bathroom at Union Square turns out to be the third floor of the Barnes and Noble, which (on this hot day) was also a welcomed oasis of air conditioning.
[REDACTED]
At some point I ended up on a bench along Broadway along one of its semi-pedestrianized segments. I managed to get good WiFi there and surf the web, reading all the latest delicious developments in the Supreme Court Obamacare story. [REDACTED]
When happy hour came, I assumed I would be able to find a suitable bar somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, but unfortunately I found no place within the narrow sweet spot I crave, which lies somewhere between tidy neighborhood bar and dive bar. In the end I just got on the five o'clock Trailways bus back to Kingston.
That turned out to be bad decision. The bus was mired in traffic soon after emerging into New Jersey from the Lincoln Tunnel. At some point the bus driver said that we would be running an hour to an hour and a half behind schedule due to a combination of accidents on the roadway ahead. The woman beside me sighed and offered me one of the extra 120 outlets in the wall beside her, but I didn't need it because of my netbook's incredible battery life. I started watching The Others, a spooky ghost story movie I had on my computer, but then we broke out of the congestion and began hauling ass up Route 17 through New Jersey. So I took a nap instead, coming very close to drooling on that nice lady next to me. Once I got to Kingston, I went shopping at Hannaford using a list that Gretchen had emailed to me.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?120628

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