Just Another Morning at the Shelter
This morning’s breakfast consisted of a bowl of corn grits, two corn muffins, and a package of corn flakes, along with the usual orange juice and milk. A guy in the elevator insisted that it was cream of wheat, but it tasted like corn, and the taste and texture were very different from the cream of wheat that we got for nearly every breakfast at Bellevue. For the past several mornings, they haven’t given us fruit at breakfast, as if they can’t afford it on the $20,000 a day they get from the government–$117 per resident per day (my ex-landlord got a little over $31 per day).
My clothes reek of tobacco as I write this because of the brazen smoking that occurred in the bathroom today far worse than usual, and of course, nobody got busted.
Mr. Stereotype’s Maxim pics and pictures of his family are now folded up in my locker because I thought he’d be coming back for them. I think he got transferred. He lost his bed because he got caught jumping a turnstile while on parole and got kept all night at the police station. I last saw him downstairs the other night trying to get a bed. I have not seen him since, so I assume that he has been transferred.