Well, Christmas is here...again. I think I've proven by now that I favor Halloween, but I suppose I can rally the spirit of celebration.
Today we haul ass back up north to party with the fam. In preparation, I headed over to Grand Central Market yesterday afternoon (after being released from the Dark Tower (a.k.a. work) at 1pm). Upon arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to find few patrons; however, mere minutes later, the gates of hell opened and an innumerable number of bodies were swarming the premises.
It was so crowded that I lasted long enough to grab two focaccia breads from Zaro's bakery, dodge a near black eye from guy flailing his arms at Murray's Cheese, and avoid being trampled by some idiot wielding a SUV-style baby carriage (in the Market - really? This was a conscious choice?).
Paltry treats in hand, I abandon my mission and, after riding a monumentally full (and odoriferous) train home, I arrive at the Sunnyside Post Office. Again, I was pleasantly surprised to find only one person preceding me on line. However, by the time I was assisted, the line grew tenfold and people were winding out the door.
Packages retrieved, I journey next to a lovely pastry shop to see if can find some cannolis (or something equally delicious and fattening), but, alas, the pastries had been picked over until there was nothing, save a lone bran muffin.
Defeated, I stagger home. Plop on the couch. And refuse to move for the rest of the evening. Merry Christmas.
Today, we must now gather the items I failed to retrieve yesterday, get on a commuter train (damn you, Grand Central), and make our way north.
Dear baby Jesus, on this eve of your birth, please give me the strength.