The drudgery of waiting in line at the post office is always offset by the the opportunity to study the magnificent WPA-style Harry Sternberg mural that spans most of one wall.
I always look at it and think, "Where are all the women who made the city great?" And then I think, "They must be in the houses, cooking and cleaning for all of these hard-working men."
Today I stared at the mural and decided that the masked person with the blowtorch is a woman. This week I'm also quite fond of the row on the right of punch-press or die-cutting guys. I think my father's father, an immigrant from Denmark, used to do that.
He also liked to tend to his back yard at the house on Patterson, and even installed some small windmills back there.
I was staring at this mural and thinking how lucky we are that we get to see Art in such unlikely places, when I noticed from the corner of my eye a dense and Shleprock-like being.
It was an ex, taking his time at one of the two windows that were open.
Facilitated Marriage #3. I introduced them. Months later I learned that he hounded her for weeks while wasting my time, too.
I immediately put up my hood and pretended to be invisible.
It worked a few weeks ago, when I saw the Proud Parent of Twins at The Food Whole.
And it worked this time, too.
Thank durga for hoods.