old grey mare she ain't what she used to be
The thing about going to work so early on a Sunday morning is that you run into all the people that are still out from partying Saturday night. The subway is a motley crew of homeward bound night-shift workers, sad sack medical personnel heading in to start their day in the hospital (hello, friends), and twentysomething inebriates in club clothing and in various stages of unconsciousness. I mean, I had my fun in the days of my (relative) youth, but was I ever able to stay out that late? These days, an 11pm bedtime while not at work is pushing me to the extremes of my endurance. How are these walking iPod ads able to rock out all night long? And how could it possibly be more fun than sleeping?
Currently reading: Some kid's chest film.