It's just before midnight and I can't sleep. This almost never happens. I've been lying in bed for an hour and a half and feel no closer to drifting off than I was when I first called it a night. Maybe it's because I know I have to get up an hour earlier, at 5am, tomorrow, and I'm subconsciously putting pressure on myself to fall asleep as quickly as possible to maximize my z's. Whatever the reason, it's a bummer. You think I'd be tired after getting up early to go to the gym, working all day, and coming home and writing for a few hours, but no. I'm a freakin' live wire.
I'm getting up early because the police station is having an inspection, something that only happens every 5-6 years. For the last month everyone around me has been busy beautifying the place, painting murals, polishing floors. Apparently all of the officers line up in their best duds and are inspected by the high-ups, like Chief Bratton. I saw a memo that went out today reminding them to shine every possible shinable part of their uniforms and to make sure all of their equipment meets certain specifications. It even reminded them to brush their teeth and trim their nose and ear hairs. Seriously.
I planned on taking a personal day to avoid the hassle of having to find parking since they're closing the lots, but the sergeant's secretary convinced me that it was quite something to see and that I should be there, along with my camera. So I'm doing it.
I had lunch today with my sweet friend and former co-worker at our favorite lunch place near Chinatown, King Taco. The best sopas and tacos, and on the cheap, too. While we were there, a kind stranger came over and gently whispered in my ear that my fly was down. I appreciated that. I have no idea why I still wear this particular pair of jeans. I mean, my zipper always creeps down. But as in all things, I am ever hopeful, so I keep giving those pants a chance, hoping that they'll change. Wow! I think I've unwittingly stumbled upon a metaphor...
I'm getting up early because the police station is having an inspection, something that only happens every 5-6 years. For the last month everyone around me has been busy beautifying the place, painting murals, polishing floors. Apparently all of the officers line up in their best duds and are inspected by the high-ups, like Chief Bratton. I saw a memo that went out today reminding them to shine every possible shinable part of their uniforms and to make sure all of their equipment meets certain specifications. It even reminded them to brush their teeth and trim their nose and ear hairs. Seriously.
I planned on taking a personal day to avoid the hassle of having to find parking since they're closing the lots, but the sergeant's secretary convinced me that it was quite something to see and that I should be there, along with my camera. So I'm doing it.
I had lunch today with my sweet friend and former co-worker at our favorite lunch place near Chinatown, King Taco. The best sopas and tacos, and on the cheap, too. While we were there, a kind stranger came over and gently whispered in my ear that my fly was down. I appreciated that. I have no idea why I still wear this particular pair of jeans. I mean, my zipper always creeps down. But as in all things, I am ever hopeful, so I keep giving those pants a chance, hoping that they'll change. Wow! I think I've unwittingly stumbled upon a metaphor...
Try the carnitas tacos or carnitas sopas and ask for salsa verde!
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment