afternoon break

I need to buy dinner. There's really no reason to cook if you live in New York and you're the only one at your dining table.

I walk to Agata (a half block away). It's crowded.  I'm trying to get to the dessert section. "Excuse me," I say to the blond in front of me. No reaction. "Excuse me," I try again, this time louder. Again, nothing. I try a third time. I'm almost yelling. And again, this chick doesn't move. I have no choice but to squeeze around her, bumping into others as I squish between her and the tiramisu cakes. That's when I notice. She's so engaged in her hands-free phone conversation, she's oblivious to her surroundings. I'm all for multi-tasking, but not when it tunes out and inconveniences others.

I am checking out. My items total $20.26. I hand the cashier $21. She hands me back the one and says, "I have extra change I want to get rid of or else my register will be over." It's a small thing, but sweet. 

On my way home,  I bump into a Moncler-clad two-year old. He's in the driver's seat of a toy, electric Mercedes Benz car. He's at the wheel, strapped in, and appears to be driving along the city sidewalk. His dad — dressed in matching Moncler — is walking next to the child-driver. In his hand is some kind of handheld remote device. I smile at the boy and the dad says, "For now, I'm the one actually controlling the driving. He's only two. Too young to be driving alone in New York."

I know what he means, but it still makes me smile.