The days are starting to run all together. Nobody in the garage knows what day or date it is, we're all operating on some higher level of survival. I have to say the camaraderie is first-rate. I think it's part of the survival. I continue to go out on jobs with Irish Mike, whom I've renamed Sensei. Others call him "Yoda". He's the one people call with their tough jobs and confused questions, or if they need the bucket truck. He always has an answer or he shows up. I've never seen him lose patience or get annoyed. Great guy. [Editor's note: he's cute, too.]
Thank you Jeeps for leaving your wallet in my car and making the trip over with the kids to come see me. Best hour of my day.
I can't believe Scott Shannon and Todd Pettengill from WPLJ are still alive.
The Rabbi is not being transferred to FIOS! Computer glitch, he stays where he is.
Thank God I commute from Westchester to Rockland and not the other way around. After a 12-hour day, 287 West at rush hour would make me shoot myself.
I've come to truly appreciate the beauty and function of cargo pants. There cannot be enough pockets for this job. Nor enough pens. Sensei and I lose at least ten a day, along with two packs of gum.
Still haven't caved in and had a cigarette.
Coconut water is disgusting. I'll hydrate some other way.
I've had an egg-and-cheese sandwich every day for breakfast.
I still don't get the meter. I get a lot of the separate parts of the job but I still can't put it all together into one diagnostic picture.
Thank you to all my friends who text me during the day. A little "hello" goes a long way. Don't be shy.
I'm doing it for the money.