Day 84, Be Brave Project; Tips n' Teeth

I have been giving the doormen their tips for Christmas. After much research on the internet I settled on $20 per person, and twice that for the Super (who got a huge chunk of change when I moved in 2 months ago).

This tipping involves more work than you would expect. First, I bought Christmas cards at Century 21 last week. Or should I buy "Happy Holiday" cards, to be politically correct? Or one of those cards that makes a point of celebrating Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa? Oh crap--Just bought Happy Holiday cards; the least vulgar ones there that were still 50% off. Dark green cards with wreaths on, decorated with a single bronze bow. Very tasteful, darling.

Then I go to the bank and take the lovely money out from my worrying and dwindling assets. Sigh. Bring the money home and sit down, with the cards on one side and the money on the other. I made a list of all the people who work in the building: Pat (crazy as a box of frogs), Angela (don't fuck), Anthony (friendly and sweet), Vernal (moody but nice), Gerard (super with a wonderful Irish face), Manny (shy, tends to hide behind doors), and the two people I've seen around doing work whose names I don't know. On my list I wrote, Young Guy & Middle Eastern Guy. It might be racial profiling, but I needed to get it all down.

Then I put the envelopes together--h'mm. Hmm. Obviously I write "Happy Holidays and All the Best from Elusive D. in apartment #XX." But won't "all the best" seem a little ironic, given that I'm only handing them $20? Or are there people giving less? So perhaps I should write ". . .and a Happy New Year?" But then that's two "Happy's" in one sentence. Not echt.

Hmm. I could write "and a Wonderful New Year." But doesn't that sound rather fulsome and as if I'm from Connecticut? I don't want that. I sat and chewed my pen for a bit, then ate a piece of Godiva chocolate 72% dark chocolate with almonds, then ate some saltines. I could see Christmas lights sparkling from balconies up the street, and I realized that meant the sky was darkening while I mulled this over. Ridiculous. Getting tangled up in knots over crap like this is why I became a drunk, anyway.

I wrote "Happy Holidays and Many Thanks from Elusive D. in Apartment XX", put a 20 in, wrote the name on the envelope (obviously I didn't write "Middle Eastern Guy" on one--I just put another "Happy Holiday". Big ass pile of envelopes sitting on my coffee table and a job well done.

Or half done.

The last few days I have been quietly stalking the building. Poking my head around corners to see if anyone I need to tip is lurking there--yesterday I had a curling iron wrapped around the hair on the back of my head when I heard a sweeping noise in the hallway. Building employee!! I didn't want to unwrap the iron, so I unplugged it and ran out the door, envelope and keys in hand and curling iron held to back of head--ah! I found the Middle Eastern Guy and gave him the envelope. I also asked his name (Bernar) and we shook hands with great zest after I switched hands on the curling iron.

I tracked down everyone, chasing the Young Guy down the hall towards the laundry room. He rewarded me with a rather surprising hug. V. sweet. His name, he said was Dee. (!?) The only person I haven't seen is Mad Pat, who's usually around the building all the time cracking bad jokes and telling dogs to pay their taxes. Hope she's all right.

Now I need to find a catsitter, and then I'm pretty set. Apart from buying gifts, of course.

Yesterday I had my new crown put in at Dr. Folickman's. A nice little $1500 spent to keep me looking like a member of the middle class. It feels and looks fine but oh! I just keep thinking of how nice my bank account would feel and look with that money still in it.