for your inconsideration: the rain and scaffolding edition

Something that stays constant in this city is the many ways people misbehave to keep each other miserable. These inconsiderate behaviors of course seems magnified when I am going through a rough patch (which, let's be honest, has been the truth for quite a while now, at least in heavy, suffocating bursts).

Since it's a day of rain, I fully anticipate one of my most unfavorite misbehaviors to run rampant involving umbrellas and scaffolding. Just a note to New Yorkers -- if you are carrying an umbrella and walking under scaffolding through the always narrow space that is left for walking, please close your damn umbrellas. It's just common sense (and common sense that you're less likely to get wet when you have a basically built-in roof over your head for a few blocks).

Join me for the next edition of "for your inconsideration" when I discuss the importance of choosing the giant meal you insist on eating while you ride the subway (or worse, the crowded bus) wisely.

In positive news, I saw Griffin, the lovely African American one-legged, semi-homeless man that I used to bring holiday meals and bread to (and who used to love and pet my dog of the same name back when I lived on 93rd Street nine years ago) yesterday while walking home from the doctor's office. He used to sit outside the deli in comfortable sweatsuits and heavy jackets on the northeast corner of 92nd St. and 2nd Ave. on a milk crate, or stand on his crutches. What always made me happy about him is that he never actually asked for anything, even though people often gave him spare change or food. He just wanted some conversation, to chat about books or movies or politics. The last time I saw him was about seven years ago, when he excitedly told me he had found a part-time job and would be staying with his sister nearby. I hope he's doing even better now (I probably should've asked). Yesterday, he was looking grayer and slightly thinner, but he was still cheery. I don't think he remembered me, but he did say, "Hello." For some reason I felt a little sad he was back to sitting there, especially because while the deli's stark-white awning painted in sweeps of the rainbow remains, the actual establishment has been closed since about 2004, a colorful ghost of itself. And the 2nd Avenue subway construction has claimed most of the corner as its victim.