S’a Weird Day

I sit here right now typing from a cafe in Herzliya.  It’s a familiar cafe.  I walked through the doors and my eyes were immediately drawn to the tables that are close to electrical outlets, because in Herzliya, the most important thing in a cafe has always been being able to plug in your laptop.

It’s been a while since I’ve been in Herzliya.  It’s weird.  A lot of stores have closed, or opened.  A building that was under construction is now complete.   But today is my “make sure I have money so I can let myself spend some of it” day, which means I have to be here in Herzliya.

It’s a weird day.  I knew I had to wake up early in order to get here in time to get things done, so I tried to go to sleep early.  But all that did was make me not fall asleep at all.  I should have known better.  On the plus side, I got a bunch of writing done (not for this blog, but if you ask nicely in real life I’ll email you the work-in-progress).

But I’m kinda sleepwalking through today, and wondering if there were any good off-campus places to sleep in Herzliya when it was raining out.  Don’t get me wrong: I’ve already got a lot of important things done even though I’m only semi-conscious.  Just, this is a really weird mood to be in.  Particularly when revisiting an old haunt.

The main street in Herzliya, for those not familiar, is Sokolov.  I did a decent bit of wandering up and down Sokolov today, poking into stores, looking for something with an overhang.  At one point I got fairly close to the office of my former landlord.  It’s a glass-front office, so he’d be able to see me from the street.

“But ah,” I assured myself, “you’re no longer a soldier, so he probably won’t recognize you out of uniform.”  And only after that thought completes does it occur to me that the last time the guy saw me, I wasn’t a soldier yet.  “No, wait,” I tell myself, “I’ve grown my beard out and let my hair go scruffy!”  Again, the thought then occurs to me that that’s precisely how I looked the last time he saw me.

Finally I just decided that after almost three years, he’s probably forgotten me, and I got over it.

And then I made my way over to one of the four or five cafes that are collectively responsible for about half of the papers I wrote in college.

S’a weird day.

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