Hoboken Sightings

Maybe it’s just because it’s hotter than balls.  Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten brussel sprouts in over a week.  Maybe it’s because my next appointment with Aloysius is only a week away.  Maybe it’s because birds suddenly appear, every time, you are near.  Regardless the reason, my brain is far from top notch form the past few days.

Since we returned from the Midwest Extravaganza, I’ve broken two glasses, one of Mom’s mugs, tripped and fallen once, tripped and not fallen at least seven times, drooled in public three times, and possibly shattered my little toe.  To be fair, my accident level is only slightly elevated from my typical week, but any increase is bad news and could potentially end life on earth as we know it.

Poor Rocco is growing tired of having to pause movies and tv shows to continually explain to me what is happening.  When the plot line of Everybody Loves Raymond is over my head, there’s a problem.

It All Depends
It All Depends

So for today’s post, I decided to just make a list – a list of the random things I saw while walking down Hoboken yesterday.  It seems I’m not the only one feeling a little mentally challenged these days:

  • A guy raising and lowering the height of his sliding ladder as he attempted to hang it from the power lines so that he could prune a tree.
  • Chunks of wreckage from last week’s mid-air collision spread out over the Maxwell ferry pier.
  • A LOT of orange construction webbing and yellow caution tape lining the length of the waterfront.
  • The red, white and green glittery arches already in place across 4th street and curling down Sinatra Drive for next month’s Hoboken Italian Festival.
  • An abandoned Depends pad resting on the steps of my shrink’s office building.
  • Two fifty-something men decked out in Yankees gear riding their bikes down Washington street singing Elvis’ “In the Ghetto” at the top of their lungs.
  • Rocco standing outside of a medical office building (a completely different building where none of my doctors reside – but it’s the thought that counts), waiting to walk me to the PATH and looking very perplexed to see me on the street.