It's snowing, and it's snowing HARD. In Manhattan. In March. That's just not right. However, in honor of the odd climatic occasion, the boy and I met up for lunch. We went to Eisenberg's Sandwich Counter on 5th Ave at 22nd and managed to score one of the six tables. It was like being on the set for a depression-era film--I didn't think they made legal restaurants that are only 10 feet wide anymore. However the matzoh-ball soup was fabulous and the pastrami sandwich we split was lovely as well--not too fatty. By the time we finished, we were full, warm and contented. Then I destroyed it by saying those fatal words, "Wouldn't it be nice...No, never mind." But it was too late, Greg already knew what I was going to say. "...if we just went home, crawled into bed under the down comforter and watched the snow fall outside on the deck?"
A mere six blocks from home, yet unable to return for another 5 hours. Life is too cruel sometimes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment