april snow

It's April 5th and it's snowing in New York City. Big, thick, pillow-fight flakes against a piss-yellow sky that would have sent me scurrying into the storm cellar if I were back in Kansas City.

This morning has been an ass-backward morning on several fronts. While shaving, I cut the mole next to my nostril, which did not stop bleeding for about 20 minutes. On the way to the subway I stopped in Starbucks and the girl did not put the lid on my coffee cup correctly. I didn't realize this until I was halfway down the side walk, coffee stains dotting my pant leg from the knee down. Then, as I hurried down the subway station steps, I discovered a train with its doors open waiting at the platform, and I dashed through the turnstile and onto the train as its doors closed, only to find I was on the wrong train.

Nothing is quite working right, stopping me in the middle of normal daily functions and forcing me to pay attention to things that I otherwise wouldn't even think about.

When the snow started to fall, instinctively I reached for the phone to call my Dad to tell him about it. But I caught myself before I picked up the receiver, suddenly aware of one more thing I would usually take for granted.