On Wednesday, I had a
lunch scheduled in Manhattan. And as I was getting ready for it, I hear this scratching from somewhere in my bedroom.
It sounded like something large in the wall. I looked outside the window but didn’t see
anything. Then, just as I was about to turn away, the scratching came from right beside me. And suddenly, a
squirrel popped his head up from the vent for the portable air
conditioner. He was trying to get in. He
also seemed quite unconcerned that I was staring at him from the other side of the
window. Creepy.
Then I went into the city on the subway (which I love!) and had delicious sashimi (and I won’t lie, I had sake too) with my friend Jim Hord. It was great to see him and I left feeling upbeat about the work possibilities here.
Thursday, after my
work efforts, I walked all the way around Prospect Park in daylight for the
first time. Before then, I’d been going early in the morning so I hadn’t felt
safe enough to go on the trails inside the park. But it was really beautiful and felt like I
was in the woods, even though there were busy streets nearby. Had it not been
for the occasional siren, it would have been bliss.
This place has such
history to it and you can sort of feel it. There’s a depth or kind of a density
that I don’t feel at home. Maybe it’s ghosts, I don’t know. But here’s a plaque I passed on my walk.
Thursday night I had
dinner with another friend in Williamsburg at place called Café Mogador. It was
a Moroccan restaurant, packed with people and the food was absolutely
delicious. I had the grilled chicken and
vegetables and asked for extra salad instead of rice. But I did cheat a little
by having some sparkling rosé.
After dinner, we went over to the
rooftop bar at the Wyeth hotel, where we took in the amazing view and over one more
glass of wine, solved all the problems of the advertising industry and the world as a whole.
As I took an Uber home, I realized that it had indeed been a great night. And as I went to bed, I kept thinking about all those funny
little signs I saw stenciled on the sidewalks in Williamsburg. Oh how my father would
hate them.
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