The superintendent of my apartment building has a big smile on his face greeting me as I come down the stairs: “It’s the day before the storm.”
“Yeah, you staying for that?”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m gonna surf on something,” I tell him.
The minutes fly. I’m at a little coffee shop before work that plays satellite radio. The digital deejay—or whoever the fuck it is on the other end of the thing—doesn’t know what it’s doing. I would unplug or fire that person.
Most of the crew that went up to New York has returned. Everyone seems quite tired, like they hit the place pretty hard.
I really need to start getting up earlier. Here is a link glorifying that: ZenHabits
Get up early and punch the keys to your heart’s content, and get back into reading again… you know, while the roof is getting torn off the top of the building. It will be nice to read again.
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