Ear Plugs, Strangely

Yesterday, on my way to the train station after work, I passed a huge construction demolition conglomeration digging up the street. The homeless man, who always sits on the same steps holding the same cardboard sign, was wearing neon green ear plugs, just like all the construction workers. It made me strangely happy.

God, rush hour home is utterly the absolute worst. I enjoy the train ride in--everyone's sleepy and moves slower, no one's in a real rush to get to work, the train smells like coffee and newspaper--but on the way home, everyone's sweaty and irritable and probably hungry, and the train is filled with obnoxious people on their cell phones. I wear ear plugs. Seriously.

For my new job, I'll only have to take the train to Hoboken (which always makes me think 'Chicken Emergency!') and then the PATH. No more Penn Station, no more subways. Praise be.

It's my second-to-last day here at SW & Co., but it doesn't feel like it. I'll miss this matchbox of an office, covered with maps of the 50 States and, coincidentally, Venice. And being able to blast music, and endless supplies of borrowable McSweeney's and CDs, and the market downstairs where you can buy 2 L of Fiji water for $1.50. Won't miss the fifth floor walk-up, though.