The perfect day to be somewhere else

“There’s no place like home,” Dorothy once said, before becoming a drug-addicted gay icon. Maybe it’s because “home is where the heart is.” So does that mean if I try to go somewhere else, without my heart, I’ll die? It’s also true that “you can never go home,” unless you’re Bon Jovi. This presents an interesting and potentially fatal quandary. I have to be but can’t be at home. Finding a job doesn’t seem all that daunting when faced with a rift in the universe. While I’ve managed to sidestep these dueling cliches so far, my luck ran out today. 

Home is the place to be most weekdays, regardless of my employment status. Everything I need – stereo, computer and food – is right here. And so are a few things I don’t need. Don’t try to hide from me, dirty dishes. I know you’re there; I can smell you. And every evening, wifey returns. What could be better than that?

Home wasn’t so great today. A pipe burst in my building’s basement, forcing the super to cut off the heat to fix it. February is not the warmest of months in NYC; it was a balmy and breezy 35 degrees outside. With the help of my less-than-airtight windows, the temperature inside my apartment dipped into the high 40s. Even the onesie can’t withstand that, as much as it tries. After all it only comes with feet, not hands (hmm, now there’s a thought…). 

Today was also a special election for a vacated state senate position serving my neighborhood. Campaigning in most neighborhoods involves volunteers handing out flyers. Campaigning in Jackson Heights involves volunteers yelling things in Spanish through very loud speakers mounted on moving trucks. Interestingly enough, this is the same tactic used to sell pay-as-you-go cell phones. Every 20 minutes a very excited someone implored me to vote for a political someone… I think. I don’t understand much Spanish. When traffic backed up and the truck was marooned below my window, the message was repeated over and over. While they didn’t actually get me to vote (or buy a new cell phone), they did manage to piss me off and make me crave Mexican food. 

Mix in some random drilling in the stairwell outside my door and the cats’ incessant meowing, and voila… a perfect day… to be somewhere else.

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  1. JoblessandLess (Norm Elrod) on Wednesday, February 25, 2009 at 4:50 am

    New blog post: The perfect day to be somewhere else http://tinyurl.com/b7z879