This is about the time of year when the California Girl in me starts to get really, really sad that it's still winter here in New York. (It also happened when I lived in Chicago.) Whereas back home the daffodils are in full bloom, they are just *barely* peeking out of the earth here in cold New York.
It's the time of year when certain things start to grate on my nerves, like overly-perfumed, portly subway riders who seem to not mind of their hind quarters take up both their whole seat and most of mine. (I mention this only becaue for two days in a row on my way home from work, the SAME woman has done this to me. Ugh.) It's also the time of year when I think most New Yorkers are getting a little hint of a cabin fever of sorts... like we've all been in our homes with the windows shut for too long and it's starting to show.
In recent days, I have seen two clowns on the train. That in itself is enough to make one wonder if one is indeed going crazy.
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If it makes you feel any better, I've had to mow the lawn three times already this year.
About hm. Maybe six years ago now, I was walking down the street, late in the afternoon, in the summer time, in an unremarkable suburban neighborhood. I saw a clown. He was driving down the shoulder of the road very slowly in his tiny clown car. He looked miserable. We watched one another as we passed eachother. I'm certain I had a completely dumbfounded expression. I don't remember a circus being in town or anything like that, and maybe thats why he was sad. A clown with no circus to perform in.
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