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Oy to the World
Well, I’ve let my bananas sit here for a long time, and now they’re all brown. (It’s a metaphor, get it?) Where have I been? Out and about, and you know, in my living room. Doing what? Oh, stuff like waiting in line at John’s Pizza for a well-worth-the-wait return to glutenous foods. What else? Walking outside in the arctic tundra that was Sunday night. Walking where? To Goodburger. So much flack, this place gets, but the burgers, the burgers are good. Delicious, even.
Oh, would you like me to stop with the whole question thing? You’d like this to be something other than a faux interrogation? Fine. I don’t know if I’m up to it, but I’ll try. For you.
I also tried to hang some festive lights -LIGHTS!- in the front window the other day. I love these lights, since they were my childhood lights, recently stolen from the garage where they were kept company by many, many spiders over the years. (I’m still having nightmares about the garage experience.)
Anyway, I tried to hang one little strand in the windows with some scotch tape, but the result was much more “Look, I let my five year old do it all by herself” than “Look how festive and Martha Stewarty we are!” So I took down the lights and let them rest solemnly on the windowsill. They’re a little bummed, but what the hell. They’ll have their glory when we bring home the chosen tree this weekend.
And on that note, Christmas sorry, THE HOLIDAY SEASON is lovely, no? Something about this time of year is reminding me about a time when I lived on Water Street (nestled between touristy South Street Seaport and the former bustling World Trade Center). My building was huge, and from the outside, I may as well have been living in an office building. Frankly, from the inside, I may as well have been living in an office building. Everything in the place was gray. Gray and antiqued bronze, such that even the bronze looked gray. The lobby was this cavernous wasteland, with a long check-in desk, a loooong GRAY “red” carpet, and an incongruously tiny mail room.
And then, seemingly out of nowhere, there were five scarily giant, posable toy soldiers near the lobby window. All in poses that made them look more at home in a gay lovers‘ film with an army theme, than, say, the Nutcracker, or, more importantly, the lobby window.
And that’s my dominant holiday memory, kids. Goodnight.
