There's a part of me that knows that once more I should slow up on the partying. I partially blame my job though. My current job? I could do it in a coma. Work has always been my deterrent to partying but if I don't need any brain cells to complete my job, where's the deterrent?
My college roommate was the one who said that I was on sabbatical previously. Now that I am back at work, the partygirl lifestyle should stop. I explained to her on Wednesday night that I was no longer a professional partier. Then again my job doesn't require much brain power. Therefore, I am now a semipro. That means that instead of heading out four to five nights per week, I now limit myself to two to three nights -- and yes, at least one of those nights is a school night.
I was late to work Easter Monday because I was out partying. What I failed to mention was that when I awoke, there was some strange guy sleeping on my living room floor. Don't ask me from where he came. So I got ready for work and then woke him up. As the day progressed, I thought more and more about it. He had a kind of street kid look about him. I figured that was the end of it.
On Wednesday I went out to lunch with a coworker. On our way back to work, I saw the boy -- wearing the same outfit he had on when I discovered him on my floor on Monday morning. So -- definitely a street kid.
Now don't get me wrong. This is not the first time I've taken in a street kid. The first time was when I met one in a bar in North Beach one Friday night. The guy was a recovering heroin addict and had no place to stay. It was 30 degrees outside that night -- too damn cold for anyone to be sleeping on the street. I took him home and fed him. We also talked a lot, mostly because he needed someone's voice to lull him to sleep. He was from Savannah originally and knew my aunt's sister. By Saturday night he had gotten in touch with his mother. The last time I saw him was when I dropped him off at a Western Union location in downtown San Francisco; his mother had wired money there for him.
So I'm 62% evil. I need to be. I'd be an absolute pushover otherwise. The evil stops me from being too trusting. I know. You could easily argue that in both cases I was way too trusting. It's just that usually my gut tells me when the story is OK. It hasn't been wrong ever. When I was a kid, I wanted to bring every stray animal home. It's kind of the same thing.
Usually when I start to think that my life is spinning out of control it's because I've done something like this. I think to myself after, "Have you completely lost your mind?" Then there's other part of me that thinks that this is what you're supposed to do. I mean, they're people after all.
Now on a completely different note -- things are going OK with my aunt. She came home from the hospital on Tuesday. Now we're just trying to figure out foods that she can eat that are actually tasty. If you know of anything that doesn't have any of the following in it, then please feel free to email me recipes: apple skins, celery, Chinese vegetables, coconut, coleslaw, corn, dried fruit, grapefruit, meat with casings, nuts, orange rinds, popcorn, potato skins, raisins, seeds, beans, cucumbers, dairy products, mushrooms, broccoli, brussel sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, onions, asparagus, and eggs. Daunting list, isn't it?
Speaking of food, here's yesterday's lunch.
One of my fave childhood memories was going to Top Dog with my dad. I have been eating out way too much this week and needed to cut back a bit on the spending. Suddenly I knew just where I needed to head. Oh, and Gloria, if you haven't been there on your trips to the Bay Area, you really must go.
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