New regime

In North White Plains, at George's house, about to head into the city to see new clients and also have lunch with my old buddy Joe, hopefully at my favorite Bukharan place in the jewelry district, first described here back in 2005, though it did move to a different location at least a decade ago. Haven't seen Joe in a couple of years, and I'm excited to introduce him to Natalie in passing at the Grand Central clock, which feels in so many ways like the epicenter of the universe. I know that betrays a certain provincialism in me, but what are you gonna do?

Have begun reading a new mystery novel for the holidays, Babylon Berlin by Volker Kutscher. Pretty good.

I had something of a light nightmare last night that I was subletting an office space from a certain Chapel Hill lawyer, a tall and balding neighbor whose family sports no fewer than three Prii ("team Thrius"). I had a nice office with a window, but then a woman lawyer came in and took over the space and redecorated the place in a not very nice green and I was being pushed out of there, though my stuff wasn't moved. It looked at first like I was being put in a crappy office with no window, but then it turned out I was being punted into the outer portion of his office suite, which had evolved into a pretty crowded coworking space, populated by millennials whose eyes were glued unwaveringly to their screens, and who listened to music at shared worktables. It was horrible, horrible.

I think it may have been influenced somehow by the Sanford and Son episode we watched last night in which Scrooge-like Fred is visited in dream by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, all of them incarnated by Lionel. Fred sees the error of his ways and gives away all of Lionel's Christmas presents to this enterprising kid, including a number of items monogrammed "LS", which Fred tells them stands for "Love Somebody."