Hola amigos, I know it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya.*

I didn’t write for two days in a row. One of my oldest friends (and most loyal readers), Josh texted me to make sure that I was okay, which is kind of cool. That’s like a Law and Order beginning. Josh doesn’t see a blog from me so he texts, no answer, then they call in Mulder and Scully (I know it’s the wrong show but their names are better).

I just couldn’t make a blog happen for the past two days. I’ve skipped days before but that was when I was feeling lazy or something. These past two days, I just couldn’t fit it in.

Okay, so, Thursday, I’m cooking dinner. I decide to bake some veggies because I’m goddamn an adult. After ten minutes I notice that the pre-heat light hasn’t gone off and the oven is actually not hot and I smell gas.

Bear in mind that I’m in my first week back to work after vacation, so, my stress level has gone from zero to normal (high) quite quickly and now I may have a gas leak. “Gas leak” is a stressful concept in league with biopsy, quarantine, and digital exam. I knew it couldn’t be too bad because I had the burners on at the same time but still I knew I couldn’t ignore this.

I called National Grid and they sent a guy over. It turned out okay. My oven no longer ignites the gas that heats it, so, it just pours gas into my kitchen. I need to get that fixed but the National Grid guy’s opinion was that if this part is broken, the oven’s on the way out. So, I’ll probably have to get a new one.

This is my first real brush with the problems of home ownership. It also caused a high level of panic and after it was all over I wasn’t in a position to write.

I didn’t write yesterday because I had a full day of work and then I went to see United States Mens Soccer Team take on Brazil at MetLife Stadium.

I had gone to see this same matchup years ago with my friend Kevin and his wife. We took a bus from Port Authority an hour or two before kick off. We got stuck in traffic and barely made it to the second half. Being stuck in traffic when there’s a time dependent event to attend is my own personal hell. So, I wanted to make sure we took a train and got there in time.

I went out on my lunch break and got NJ Transit tickets to the Meadowlands for me and my friends who were going. Everything was set.

And then, right when I was about to leave, I had a producer come up to me and tell me that I needed to work on a project that had to be delivered that night. Just to be clear, the night in question was a Friday. I never know if the company requesting this stuff on a Friday ever actually looks at the stuff we deliver or if they’re just masochists who enjoy the idea that they’re screwing the employees of the agency they’re working with.

Having to get a project done activated my “stuck when there’s a time dependent event level of hell” stress. Luckily what looked like a huge amount of changes turned out to be minor, so, I was only half an hour late.

The last time I went to this game, I remember a small, quick player darting up and down his side of the field making these amazing runs. Who the hell is that guy? It turns out it was a player named Neymar. All these years later he’s a different player. He’s not as blazingly fast – at least relative to everyone else on the field – and his play is calmer and more authoritative. It was cool to see him. Brazil was awarded a penalty and we were behind the goal to see him slot it home perfectly. I was wearing a USA jersey but that was awesome.

After the game, we ran to the train where a New Jersey Transit worker yelled, “There is no need to run!” But we would have missed the train if we hadn’t. I made it home at 11:45, just in time to have a snack and watch a little Bachelor in Paradise with the girlfriend (fuckin’ Colton, am I right?). I was too tired to write.

So, that’s where I’m at. We’re about three quarters of the way through the year and I’m short about fifteen posts. I’ll be trying to make those up. Apparently this is the time of year when work really ramps up, so, we’ll see. Also, I’m writing this in the new Starbucks by the Union Street R stop. I dig this poster with local stuff on it. I guess I don’t live in Park Slope? I’m in Gowanus? Either was, I’m on board with romanticizing one of the most polluted areas in the city if not the country.