Newman passes at the top of the morning; a spectre shuffles above for the rest of the day. Lethargy sets in. Ilene and I walk through the park, which is wet and smells of rotting wood. Laziness spoils a planned trip to see The Big Sleep at BAM. Instead of a lavish dinner, we order takeout, from separate places. She has Thai with tofu. I get a triple decker grilled cheese. Neither are any good. We go to local haunt to drink for a friend’s birthday. Attendees mock my team. With good reason. Gin at bar is toxic, leaves a sizzle in the brain the morning after.
Day two my team loses, predictably but still devastatingly. Lunch is a bag of Utz pretzel nuggets. No work is accomplished. The queue is cleared of Fringe and Californication and Gossip Girl and Meet the Press and Heroes. None are compelling.
