Drank away Labor Day weekend. Phone rang a few times, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I sat in the dark, blinds drawn, drinking. Sunday afternoon, I decided to treat myself. I phoned the Thai place on 79th Street for a pick-up order. As soon as the woman heard my voice, she said, “Let me guesss–you want coconut soup?” It was exactly what I wanted. “How did you know?” I said, already knowing the answer. “Because you order it all the time,” she said. “Every weekend, coconut soup, coconut soup, coconut soup.” I felt embarrassed. Ashamed of my own predictability. “It’s…