Sore and I Miss My Cats

Today I rest. It is 6:39 AM.

I have a short list of things in mind that I should do. My car door handle is a priority, starting to paint the porch a lesser priority, talking to the Italians, and generally taking it easy today. I feel the effects of the weekend yet.

Night.

John and Cathy left me a note, trash bags, recycling information, and pesticide. My order of importance was note, recycling information, trash bags, and pesticides. Until tonight. I didn't do the dishes before I left for Manhattan and when I returned, I saw four roaches, two bugs, and some other stuff creeping and crawling.

Impulsively, I took an aerosol can of bug killer and I hosed down two roaches, trapped another one under a pot lid (and I think that I hosed it down, but I'm not sure - heat of the action thing, you know), and took a vigorous interest in the pesticides left for me.

There are two glue traps. I set one of them. And then I used a big bottle of boric acid with which I concocted a sugar, water, and boric acid stew for my little friends to consume and bring back to their nests. It works great for ants and I hope to see all sorts of little dead buggers tomorrow and for days to come.

Welcome to city life, I guess.

Once again, I don't feel like writing. I walked a long way today in search of a door handle for my car, but I didn't find one. The consistent advice is to go to the dealer which is on 3rd Ave which turns into 65th Street in south Brooklyn.

I also talked to a frame person who quoted me $25/each to nicely frame my 8x10 photos and she gave me advice on how to approach gallery owners. Lastly, I bought painting supplies to start on the porch. Tomorrow morning I have to move my car for the street sweeper so I will take a driving tour to the dealer, the frame shop, and to Home Depot. Before I go, I need to get my photos from the church to bring them to be framed.

Also today, I talked to Edwin, John, and Betsey. John was glad to hear from me and he gave me instructions for painting as I knew he would. With the porch housing, I decided to scrape down to the wood (rather than just paint over which is what I think John would do) and I realized that heat works wonders for scraping paint. For the early afternoon, I worked in the shadow and then when in direct sunlight, the sun-heated paint peeled nicely with my razor blade tool.

Due to the heat, loneliness, and general fatigue, I impulsively went to Manhattan tonight to find a Starbucks so I could escape into Internet use. I'm jumpy so I didn't relax and I acted like the country bumpkin that I am. I paid for a 24-hour T-Mobile Hot Spot Internet pass and the intermittent connection frustrated me. But I had a chance to chat with Naomi and Betsey, I checked my financials, e-mail, and read some sports stories.

I couldn't interpret whether the Starbucks was closing so I bolted and talked to Betsey on the walk back to 4th St station. I could have used an earlier train station, but I felt like talking. The nightlife was incredible and again, I felt like a country bumpkin, wide-eyed staring at the beautiful people roaming the streets. I thought as I often do, why are they comfortable when I'm strung out and unsure?

I rode the train back to Brooklyn, feeling strung out. I talked to some poor girl who took the express train to Brooklyn by accident and had to back track to Delancey in Manhattan. I compared my experience to how I am in Boston. In Boston, I'm unafraid. I know the landscape and the people. I have a sense of danger and safety. Here I am just unsure, I guess. And I'm learning. Talking to my friend in Greenville sort of set me up for fear and his words, 'You're gonna get mugged.' ring in my thoughts. There is no need to carry his paranoia as my own. But I still need to be cautious, careful.

I walked warily from the 9th Ave stop to 820 42nd Street. On the steps, I unlocked the door and looked around at the lights and buildings. The familiar tingle of excitement to be here flowed through me.

So I have a mixture of wanting New Hampshire and wanting to stay. I miss my cats, I guess.