Losing it

On the days when I'm not running late for work (which are few and far between), I sometimes walk the extra two blocks to go to the café that's farther away from my house. I make the trip partially because they make better lattes, and partially because that's where I once ran into Heath Ledger and I'm hoping for a second spotting.

This morning I finished my cereal before the second commercial break in the Golden Girls, which meant I was early, so I headed down to the Heath café. When it came time to pay, I looked in my wallet to discover that my cash, credit card, ATM and MetroCard were still sitting in the back pocket of my jeans that were flung across my bed at home. Serves me right for deciding to wear my fancy slacks today.

I told the lady to hold my latte while I ran home to get my money. 12 blocks later I came panting back into the café and handed them a $20. Latte in hand, I headed off to the subway, got to the station and realized that I had forgotten to get my change. Yes, New York is expensive, but it's not up to a $20 latte just yet.

When I returned to the café for the third time, the lady just smiled and shook her head as if to say, please don't come here again, dumbass. Good thing Heath wasn't there to see my mind begin to crumble. Is 29 too early to go senile? I already have grey hairs, maybe it's just the logical next step.

Combined with Sunday's shenanigans, I'm beginning to alienate myself from every café in Brooklyn. Maybe it's a sign I should cut down on the caffeine.