And after all that it appears that once again (why me?!) the check was bobbled, numbers blended, totals tallied wrongly or mistallied rightly and my check – that I should have already received – amounts to some $150 LESS than my LEAST expectations. So, tomorrow, postMet (where I, by the way, interview again; someone new), I pause at the offices of Princeton Review to review my recorded hours and plead my case.

In the meantime, ventured far down 125th to FEDERAL POSTAL AUTHORITY to procure my package and buy some veggies from veggie vendor at C-Town where I witnesses an avalanche of onions bury a small child. I didn’t do it. But I did helpfully unbury him (as a good samaritan, and with no real escape, and as the closest culprit for blame, and rather than being seen as both a klutz AND an irresponsible klutz…) I re-piled the bags of smelly, rotting onions on the shelf. An echo, now that I recall, of restacking the bread in the basement market last night. Again, I was not the guilty party.

And finally, it should be noted that New York is a ballooning, twisted satire of itself. Exhibit A: this from the New York Times, Metropolitan Section, today: 

Baby Saved From Compactor Where Mother, 12, Says She Put Him.

No myth! Front page, metro section, NY Times, Thurs. March 28, 1991. What is going ON around here?