Premature

Today the sun came out. That old surly whore showed her rays slowly like a dragged out striptease. By midday, we had the equivalent of a nice day at play. I'd like to tell you that I reveled in it for its duration but the truth be told, the work day today was particularly demanding. I barely saw the blatancy of the sun's showy gown or felt the heat of its long arms while on a lunchtime stroll. I'd glance out the window during the course of the day and think, no worries, you decadent mistress, I know you are there.

By the time I actually walked out of the office doors, it was closer to 7 pm than I would have liked. When I got to Manhattan, it was nearly 8 pm. The sun had conceded to its nocturnal sister. Yet the very promise of a warm day had lulled the inhabitants of my neighborhood to extract their lawn chairs and boom boxes and domino boards to set up shop in the neighborhoods of our streets. Running the gauntlet of said streets just to get home was warm and nostalgic. People were lively. Salsa music churned. An impromptu football game sprung up at 157th and Riverside, blocking incoming traffic. I was practically waiting for the hydrant to spring open and dampen my toes. What a wonderful day.

I'm off to California tomorrow morning for a long weekend. I'm attending a memorial service and a wedding in two days. I sort of wish I was making that up. More to come.