Robo Hobo Homo #092

While I was taking care of this business, Pally moved out and Andreski moved to the back hall. Have I talked about the back hall? Hold on, I will later. With those two gone, there were only four people in our emergency room. That meant I could move to a downstairs bunk and quit tripping over Wheelchair Guy. He's a good guy, but living quarters are especially tight when you're talking about someone in a wheelchair. Take the personal space you need and multiply it by 50% and that's probably just the down-payment on the personal space someone in a wheelchair needs.

I took a shower and when I came back, I had a fresh feeling, my duties in order, and a space of my own.

I did not, however, have enough time to get any sleep. I broke down and bit the bullet. Before arriving here, I drank a lot of caffeine. Like, "familiar with caffeine overdose symptoms," a lot. When I'd quit on the 14th, I'd lucked out that I hadn't lost a day to withdrawal. I was proud of the fact that despite the ready access to coffee a Purgatory Shelter, I hadn't had any.

Until that night.

Some mail had come in for me while I was gone. It was a letter from the Food Stamps guys about how I needed to set up an appointment for an interview. It didn't really say for what, but because of the weekend, it'd be until Tuesday until I could get in there and see what was up. I could have called, but I really don't find phone calls to be...satisfying or definitive.