It is 3:45 in the morning.  I am at work.  No… I’m not finishing up… I’m actually just starting.  One of the things about my newfound flexibility is that I have become a sort of mercenary.  Can’t get a system up and running?  Send NYCWD.  Can’t get a bus started in three feet of water?  Send NYCWD.  Got 15,000 Rastafarians going to the Island of Misfit Toys for the second biggest East Coast reggae show?  Send NYCWD.  Encountered a marauding band of pirates who are pillaging your wealth, burning your homes, and raping your women?  Obviously, they called NYCWD before you did.  Duh.

I like the flexibility, and the changing challenges that occur to keep me occupied… but I really am NOT feeling these hours.  Hell, I didn’t even stay up for wrestling last night to watch the return of Triple H.  To make things worse, apparently the Dunkin’ Donuts overnight guy died… because after 5 minutes of pounding no one came to the window so I had to settle for a 7-11 latte.  It’s not shaping up to be a good day.  So for the next 3-4 days I’m working crazy hours… doing stuff I’ve done a trillion times before with a team who I have never heard of, but who apparently have heard of me. 

They call me Genghis.  ‘nuff said.