good sights, bad sights, 9 days out

Having little to do, and with much rain predicted for the week, I decide to walk downtown. A nice 6 mile walk, as it turns out.

I am impressed by the multi-block line I see as I pass Wagner Middle School, one of many voting stations throughout the city.

Early, in-person voting opened here yesterday, with some people waiting over four hours. 

I am glad I voted by mail, and was happy to learn that ballots can be tracked.

Almost 60 million people have already voted.  Last election, a total of 138.8 million people voted. This will be a historic year, for yet another reason. Though this one is a good one.

I pass Madison Square Garden. There, too, the lines are long. Like the Upper East Side school I passed earlier, lines snake around several blocks. People care who leads our country, and they should — there is much at stake.

I walk down to 18th and 7th. Stop at my favorite store, Homenature. And then decide to take the subway home. Last time I did (in August, I think), it was spotless and empty. 

Well, things have changed.

Not only is the subway crowded, but people are sloppy about mask-wearing. Two people keep lowering theirs to either talk on their phone or drink their ice tea. And one man doesn't bother with a mask at all. 

I take out my phone, put on my glasses, keep my distance and uncharacteristically say nothing.

I stop off at Butterfield Market to pick up something for dinner, and can't find my glasses anywhere. I check both pockets of my coat, the two pockets in my shorts, and even feel the top of my shirt, thinking maybe I hung them there. Nope. They are nowhere.

I buy what I need. Check again. And still, no glasses. They must be somewhere. Wouldn't I have heard them fall?

On my half-mile walk home from Butterfield's, I hear loud honking and see blinking lights. It looks like some kind of parade. 

As I get closer I see this unlikely caravan around 76th and Third.

It's an unwelcome sight.  But so is the normal-looking, middle-aged woman walking next to me, who suddenly raises her two middle fingers and starts shouting over and over to the paraders, "F*ck you."

I get home, and go to wash my hands before removing my mask or touching anything in my apartment. 

This unflattering and utterly ridiculous image stares back at me.