It is a strange sensation to be completely alone on the 15th floor of a midtown office building. When I arrived circa 10:30, the lights in the kitchen were still off. The toilets had not been used since their last cleaning. And it’s cold, so cold I’m wearing my coat, even though the heat is ostensibly on. There’s not even a Bert to keep me company.
Oh my God, as I wrote that, a person turned the corner and looked at me! I have never seen him before, but since I’m freelancing and haven’t been here for a few weeks, nor have I ever met everyone on this floor, that means little.
I’m sure you’ll all be quite pleased to know that, after 7 back-to-back episodes of Law and Order yesterday (which really freaks a person out, now that you mention it; I’ve been scanning dumpsters for body parts all day), followed by 12 hours of sleep, I feel much, much better. I awoke this morning sans headache, sans throat ache, sans despair.
This delightful image is from the even more delightful farmer’s market at Dag Hammarskjold Plaza, which takes place year-round on Wednesdays on 47th and 2nd in midtown. This location, I admit, is very near my freelance place of occupation, else I would hardly be visiting midtown on a Wednesday.
A farmer’s market is a lovely place to go for the unemployed (as well as the recession-compromised employed), for it offers great bargains! I, for instance, purchased 4 kirby cucumbers and 4 small squashes for $3.15. (My purchase of two drinks and a tub of almonds at the nearby Amish market—which is not Amish at all, but that’s another story—was, by comparison, nearly $10. So you see.)
This marks my second day in the NYC office of TK publishers, where I have a 3-week freelance copy editing assignment.
Yesterday not much was ready for me, and the blessed saint who hired me allowed me to go home early after a quick perusal of the word list and style guide. I thankfully agreed and departed by 3 to hit the gym and then nurse my wounds from Sunday night.
photo credit: Sailor Coruscant
