Was supposed to go see the NY Philharmonic in Central Park tonight, but the rain is coming down in buckets, and our building keeps getting rocked by thunderous rumblings (not, I presume, unlike the one that occurred two days ago a mere 6 blocks away during a ridiculously misguiding suicide attempt). I tell ya — someone call Noah and start pairing up.
The fun of it all, of course, is that I am still going out tonight. Having moved our mind-expanding cultural picnic in the park to a much-more-like-me Irish bar downtown, I’m looking forward to an evening commute that resembles a triathlon: hurdling puddles at every street corner, dodging clueless umbrella-wielders on a shared sidewalk, and sodden subway surfing. Oh joy!
