Imperfect

As I returned from my morning walk there was a homeless man stretched out in the foyer, sweatshirt pulled over his head. I wondered if it were shame, a wish to remain anonymous or reluctance to spread germs that had him covering up, perhaps all three. I didn’t have my mask in place and didn’t think of covering my mouth with a gloved hand. A woman on the way to walking her dog and a man off to work, both of whom I encounter frequently in the AM, weren’t masked up, either. I believe the woman called for help on the poor soul. I gargled as soon as I reached the apartment.

I hadn’t seen Gonzo since about a month before the Super Bowl. I lauded him for his insight. Not only did he predict a Tampa win, he said the defense would be the main factor. He now predicts KC will go undefeated next season. He says the Buccaneers are too old to repeat. Who am I to doubt him?

My thanks to the kind folks who bought, donated and swapped books on this gorgeous day. Here’s what sold: several books in Russian, a cook book, four illustrated classics for kids, Ghost Story by Peter Straub, the DVD of Michael Clayton (2007), three coloring books, The Perfectionist’s Handbook: Take Risks, Invite Criticism, and Make the Most of Your Mistakes by Jeff Szymanski; and my trading floor roman a clef, Exchanges, selected by Gareth, a bearded young man who purchased several business-oriented works of non-fiction yesterday. Given that, I took a shot at mentioning X, my abbreviation for the novel. He’s been buying Bitcoins since he was a teenager, the actual commodity not the stock. His parents avoided giving him a Russian name, fearing it would hamper him here in the USA.

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