I had an appointment with my shrink yesterday. She’s not really a talking shrink she’s more of a mental patient pill shrink.

She texted me the time and date of the appointment, 11 a.m. on Monday.

I got there a little early and buzzed to get in the building. No response.

When there was no answer at 11:15 I texted her.

“Are you on your way?”

She wrote back “I moved my office . It’s 3 blocks uptown.I forgot to tell you”

“Way to keep your clientele booming, telling nuts the wrong address. That should set them back a bit.”

I ran up to keep what was left of my appointment.

She always asks me lots of questions about how I’m doing. I always say fine but I’m not looking to work out any problems with her. I have my sister for that. I just want my crazy pills.

She asked me if the pills are working for me. I had to think.

I realized that I have no idea if they are working.

Then I gave it some thought.

I’ve been taking one or another of these pills since my husband said he was leaving and I was either frozen or I couldn’t stop crying.

Do I do that any more? No.

Does that mean I can stop taking them? I still dream of him every night which makes me think I’m still not totally over it.

I was married almost 40 years. Will it take that long to really move on?

If I stop taking them will I go back to feeling the way I did in 2011?  That’s a chance I don’t want to take.

I answered.

“Yes they’re working”.

For the past month or so my dog Ray has turned into a rooster.

As soon as the sun comes up he starts barking and barking in my face until I get up.

I know what you’re thinking.. the poor boy has to drop a deuce.

Well those of you who’ve read this blog for any length of time know that I leave my terrace door open in all weather and if that was his problem he could easily step outside to this lovely haven.

The little prick should remember from whence he came. His previous owners thought so much of him that they dumped him in a kill shelter and I saved him from death row.

You’d think he’d show a little gratitude.

So grumbling profanities I get up, throw some duds on and sleep walk to the front door where he’s sitting with a superior look on his face.

When I pick up his leash, he prefers to walk me on a leash, he does a little dance and I have to admit that all is forgiven.

The other night I was watching either CSpan or Bravo when I get a call from my neighbor Jeffrey.

“Can Dominic come up and use your computer?” Dominic is  Jeffrey’s husband.

“Sure just let me put my pants on”

“No need.”

I ignored him because being a woman alone I didn’t want to tempt him and have that marriage go the way  of mine.

After Dominic did what he needed to do on the computer he brought up 9/11.

I did what all Jews do when attacked.

I rushed to the supermarket to stock up where  I bumped into Jeffrey and Dom. Dominic is Italian which is the same as being Jewish food wise.

I decided to buy a turkey and I told them to come to my house for dinner and bring our  friend Carol who lived on their floor.

I even invited my down the hall neighbor who hadn’t spoken to me in 2 years because I broke an ashtray in her house while I was minding her cat.

Obviously Lizzie was there. I’m not sure if David was in the picture yet.

We all huddled together for comfort.

New York was a very small town that night.

For the people who live here it always is.

Especially if you have a rooster.

So I’m walking my dog this morning and I notice that the nicely dressed guy walking in front of me stops and picks up litter as he’s going along and putting it in trash cans.

He wasn’t nuts about it. He didn’t pick up every little thing, only the kind of big things.

I always have a running commentary going on in my head while I’m walking Ray. Usually it’s criticism of my fellow New Yorkers,

“So you tried that dress on in the store and said “This looks good on me. I’ll take it”?’

“Clairol didn’t have a brassier color you could use?”

“No one told you that your ass crack belongs IN your pants?”

But this time it was different.

“What a nice thing to do. Not only doesn’t he litter but he cleans up after those that do.

I’m not surprised that he’s doing this. He’s wearing nice clean clothes and he seems like a gentleman”

Then we get to the corner.

He keeps trying to cross the street against the light and every time a car comes he looks at the driver in surprise puts his arms up in wonder and says

“Fuck you. Fuck you What the fuck are you doing you fucking cocksucker?” or a variation of that.

Because it’s rush hour the cars are moving slowly so one or two of the drivers give him the finger but say nothing.

Finally the light changes and he gets across the street shaking his head in irritation.

Then he continues on his way making NYC a prettier and cleaner place for us all.

This, my friends, is why I never want to live anywhere else.