NY/NZ

Today Emily wrote about the play we saw in celebration of my birthday.  I have nothing to add, except that I meant Hobbes instead of Locke and that I did a fist pump in the theater when the main character (Ruth — yes, this play hit a little too close to home) reached the point in her slideshow of apartments where she lived in San Francisco for four months.

A few weeks ago I was waiting for the Q at Union Square at the end of a very long day. I had to pee and I was carrying about four different heavy bags (my survey of the platform showed that no one was carrying less than two bags; we New Yorkers are such a burdened people), so really, the train could not have arrived fast enough. After about five minutes spent pacing the platform — the train should be coming any second now! — I saw someone jump down in the tracks. I think it’s telling that my first reaction was not curiosity, or concern, or anxiety, or fear, but merely irritation.

“God!” I thought. “If that asshole gets hit by the train, then it will REALLY take forever to get home.”

Yeah, it hasn’t taken me long to readjust to New York at all.