Under the Weather

It's been raining in New York now for about a week. The heavens parted and released it's brew of warm and irritatingly tiny rain drops after a streak of bright, sunny Spring days. Alas it is (was) April, so I supposed the showers make sense. But I was just getting used to going outside without a jacket on. My room mate and I had even ventured out to Soho baring it all in sun dresses and sandals. But since then, the sun withdrew and has been replaced with a fog that sits over Manhattan. I noticed this fog as I came out of the 34th street subway station this morning. Everyone keeping their heads down as they walked up the stairs to the street surface, tilting their heads upward at the first sign of light as if somehow compelled to feel the morning on their face. Everyone, I realized, was tilting their heads up at the same exact point as if their necks were all collectively held by puppet wire. But there was really nothing to look at. The tips of the buildings that lined 8th were disappearing into a cloud of mist. Even the glorious Madison Square Garden swelling with Rangers fans looked saddened by the onset of rain. Poo, I skipped grabbing breakfast and headed straight up to the 6th floor.



Aside from just being ugly, the weather has induced me into a cold. I've been sniffling since Monday and trying desperately to remedy it, but it looks like my weekend is going to be filled with nasal congestion and lemon tea. Also my huge brown and cream knit scarf that I wear to bed when it's cold (or when I have one...a cold that is).



Anyway, so I've avoided touching anyone at work. Shelley (the lady I work with) realized I was sneezing on Tuesday and immediately dispersed her advice in that matter-of-fact way, "Ga down-a Duane Reade and get cha some vitamin C and some-a that Air-Born...I'm tellinya it'll clear right up by next week..." She barely looked up from her computer as I plopped down in the chair by her desk breathing a sigh of pure agony. I was waiting for her to tell me what she needed since she'd called me over via Instant Message. But instead she just held up her finger the way my Mom does when she's concentrating and doesn't want her thoughts interrupted. Shelley's mouth hung open while she typed an email, without resting her tapping fingers she looked up and smiled at me as if impressed by her own typing abilities. Then she returned to face the monitor and began a symphony of mumbles to herself. I waited. The typing stopped. "Also," she continued, "Drink lots of water, go grab ya a bottle. And make sure and wash ya hands, doll. We don't want to get the rest of the awffice sick. Ya know everyone was sick just-a month ago? Gwad it was terrible, the whole department, can you imagine?"



That day at lunch I went to Duane to get the suggested supplies. Also a slice of broccoli pizza.



Today though, is better. I had a good rest, but contemplated on calling in. My eventual rise from bed was inspired by the fact that I need only $350 more dollars to buy myself a laptop for my birthday this month. Since my room mate's lap top literally exploded, I've been forced to check my email on my cell phone or at work. Which is fine, I guess but having a lap top to use would sure help with the whole 'aspiring writer' thing I do.



I'm hoping I feel better by tomorrow morning, since I have a hair appointment with a lady named Neila, whose West African accent was so thick that she had to repeat my appointment time over and over. "Tin Thuty.." She said. Which means I have to be up at 9:30 to take the train to Lafayette and walk the few blocks down to South Portland. I'm just happy that I can finally get my hair done, even if it means spending all my money. Hopefully I would have a little left to go to that Guerrilla shop that's open this month. It's supposed to be a bunch of independent labels from Hong Kong selling cloths and nick knacks at 50% off. I think crap from Hong Kong is always a little juicer than American crap.

Check out Made in HK this weekend:
www.multiplechoiceonline.com