You lie not! I err! But you enabled my err!
It is possible that, in this cyberhaze, I compounded the humbleness of your Profile with this statement of yours:
"I find cyberlife astonishing too. Where else can a palooka like me mix it up with erudite personages such as yourself and others that you mention? I mean, it seems like you've been to college and everything."
...to generate an impression of self-abasement, which is an attitude that should be very foreign to you.
Sorry about that - but you did participate!
geo
PS: I'm going to tack-on a Procrastination event. (Why did that thread get such wild initial response? Did I kill it by being dull? Did it die because of its essence - or maybe because it had no real purpose at all? I believe the following will give a good clue as to why I was inclined to set it up in the first place. Well...)
Met Foods Supermarket, on Bowne Street in Flushing, has a fully decked-out deli counter that, naturally, sells heroes.
Vinnie, who just moved upwardly to the Island is Captain. And Olga, an epitome woman of 30, with a 9-year-old daughter, serves as Mate all day Saturday, and till noon on Sunday. She is putting herself through St. John's.
For more than three years, I have translated some of affinity that has developed among us to the purchase of hero sandwiches.
Each of the crew gives special treatment to these heroes - a fresh 8-or-so inch roll stuffed with a minimum 1" thickness of meat and seasonings. Vinnie leans towards oil-based dressing, with thin, almost diced lettuce and tomatoes; while Olga does magic with mayo/mustard and exotic seasonings, and sliced lettuce and tomatoes.
Neither of them bring much profit to Met Foods, giving close to a pound of prime roast beef, shrimp salad, fresh ham, and whatever for $3.75 (Vinnie) and $4.00 (Olga). It is a rare weekend that I don't put half of the luscious concoction in the fridge for the next day.
Over time, I came to prefer the Olga creation. I would wait till Vinnie left on Saturday afternoon, or come in before noon on Sunday, and let Olga perform her magic - recently of fresh ham, muenster, hard salami - and her charmed seasonings and lettuce/tomato - all on a massive fresh-baked roll. No restaurant I have ever found, over decades of eating often quite up-scale, has provided taste stimulation that surpassed an Olga magic hero. In my tiny cabin, devouring one (or one-half) of these with a shimmery martini, puts me in an exquisite sensory situation that cannot be rivalled.
Well, several months ago, after my lethargy or procrastination became pronounced, I missed a weekend. For no good reason. I just did not make my trek to Met Foods.
It happened that the following weekend, Saturday evening, Olga asked, "Where were you last week? I was worried."
It is a very busy store and deli counter. I was astonished and deeply touched that Olga had actually observed my not having been there the previous week. She cared!
Since that day, I have never missed a Saturday evening or Sunday morning for my Olga fix - after all, she cares!
(I don't find the unexpected length of this anecdote to be an imposition - as there is always the "next" button.)
This morning, however, deep into another addiction of mine, the Times Crossword, I let the time run down towards noon. Kept setting limits: After the next two words, after I finish this cigarette, at 10:30, at 11:00 - I will get ready and go to Met Foods, to Olga.
But I didn't!!!
Now, that's the kind of procrastination that bothers the shit out of me. I have abandoned not only the slinky, sexy, sultry, scrumptious sandwich, I have caused Olga to wonder why I wasn't there - and I have missed the pleasure of seeing someone who cares for me, and who is indescribably sweet, warm, and lovely.
There was no physical element to this. I am in fairly enviable shape. It was a conscious weighing of alternatives, and opting for the easier one of the moment.
Why?
(As no one has read this far, I can put in a couple of lines of straightout obscenity to the offence of no one. But, maybe, SiliconBob is watching.)
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