One of the many leftover effects of the unpleasant, powerful, and formidable Hurricane Sandy, aside from the staggering uprooted trees and scattering of large branches, has been a shortage in gasoline, leading to rationing across the Tri-State area. It had not occurred to me to fill up my tank last Sunday, before the storm, my hopeless naïvety when it comes to emergency preparedness evident. Thankfully, I live in a suburban town where walking to the essentials, namely my favorite Chinese joint and the coffee shop and deli where I can parasitically partake in their generous free wireless connection, is both possible and enjoyable. I have not driven my car, with its lowly quarter-filled tank, in over a week, avoiding the mile-long lines at the few available gasoline station, and also limiting my daily comings and goings to a small, local radius. Normally, I would welcome this type of salvage from the torments of necessary travel, the commute to and from work, the inherent responsibilities of the typical, monotonous schedule. Indeed, this sort of vacation from reality has been relaxing, though, it is an opportunity that was only afforded with great cost to my surrounding society, my favorite city, my friends, my neighbors.
Between this natural event, and my recent vacation and general scurrying about for work, I have not seen my niece in over a month. She has nearly all her teeth, and, apparently, today sampled a delicious black and white cookie, a sort of crucial induction into the life of a Brooklyner. Her first birthday is this week, and I hope to be able to sneak into the city to help celebrate, provided the public transportation system is safe and can return to some degree of normalcy. Until then, I will stay relatively cozy in the confines of my apartment, reading, dozing.
(image taken from A Well-Traveled Woman)