Sundays

Sundays are the lonliest days in New York. Possibly elsewhere as well but I wouldn't know. Everyone is part of a pair. I'm not exaggerating. I don't think single people leave the house on Sundays in fear of seeming out of place. Wait - I don't know if there ARE single people in New York anymore.

I went to Stamford today to see Rebecca and go to the Target store so I could use my gift certificates for Holiday shopping. Then we went to the Stamford mall, but I only got Kris a b-day present there. Halfway through our shopping Rebecca's husband called. He was watching football at the apartment with a friend of his, and they wanted to order a pizza from the place across from the mall but didn't have the phone number or know the name. We weren't done shopping yet so we couldn't bring it to them, but we did end up going across the street to place the order. While Rebecca did that, I stared longingly at the empty bar and thought how nice it would be to sit and have a beer or two or ten. It was 3:50. The idea to stay was tempting, however, because at 4:30 just across the street, Santa Claus was going to be repelling down a 25-story office building. We could have sat right in the window and watched the whole thing. We also could have looked at the firefighters who were dressed up in red Santa hats and Holiday garb and standing right outside for the occasion. One of them had an 8 or 10 month old dalmation - classic.

We ended up going back to the mall. Just as well.