The good news is we're approaching the 1 o'clock hour here in NYC.
I'm thinking of taking this blog anonymous. Don't worry -- you can still read it. My name just won't appear up there. My photo won't be over there. I can be more free to tell it like it really is.
You see, I have come to realize I'm sitting just inches from a treasure-trove of stories from a neigbor. I'm not talking LOL funny stories from Sullivan Street. More like absurd ones from that place where I spend time. You could read stories about me stepping over feminine hygiene products, tales of incessant scratching and the vat of shea butter, and of course, the collection of five gallon buckets.
And then of course, if I were really current I'd describe today's constant stare at her computer monitor. It's the polite little smile and no other noticeable movement for the last two hours that causes me to wonder if there's been a head injury.
Maybe I should speak to her supervisor.
I could not make this stuff up. No way.