My friends are vagrants all of different sorts. When I pass under bridges I think about sleeping there. When I see the narrow allies between buildings I wonder who has claimed them for their sleeping quarters. I didn't elect this life, but here it is.
I had thought, nearly a month ago, that there would be no more hassle left. That things would assemble nicely for me. I thought that everything would fall neatly into place. And I was very wrong. The only job to present itself was working in a Korean laundry mat washing and folding other people's laundry. And, again, being told that I wasn't working quickly enough.
And so I quit, deciding that I still had dignity and time left. Potentially foolish. Potentially a sign of greatness. I felt bad about leaving her based on her grandmotherly qualities. But the language barrier, at first endearing, proved to be too much for me to handle on the job. So I lied to her, saying that I had accepted a job elsewhere. She overpaid me for the last check. She's a nice woman and her kim-bobs are delicious.