1. The handful of trees that line our street are in bloom.
2. The local immigrants have relocated their loud arguments in strange languages from the depths of their hookah smoke filled apartments to the sidewalk. On second thought, I am not sure if they arguing, or if that specific tone of voice is simply what their language sounds like. Either way, it is distracting.
3. There seems to be more honking, although this might only be due to having the windows open.
4. The “stray kitty soap opera” that takes place in the alley behind out apartment has really picked up and come to a head - this involves enormous catfights and mating rituals, both of which are loud enough to wake us up at night. To summarize: Orange Tomcat has given up some territory to Tabby Imposter, while the Calico Warrior has reclaimed every cat’s favorite lounging spot from the formerly dominant Fat Cat. Black Kitty (our favorite) is holding her own and keeping to the shadows. All are seeking the heart of the fat and sensuous Housekitty.
5. Yes, it seems like Ben and I spend too much time watching stray cats from our kitchen window. Please remember that neither one of us have real jobs - we’re just word hustlers, and there’s some down time involved.
6. Our local homeless population looks kind of confused in these four weeks of the year in New York City where it is not either uncomfortably hot or uncomfortable cold. One such local homeless man has been spotted wearing Tevas with socks - an early season fashion statement, or just stuff he found in the trash and wrestled from the Calico Warrior?
7. I hope that last one wasn’t too offensive toward the homeless. But then again, homeless people don’t have the internet, do they? Okay, that was probably offensive to the homeless. I was probably also insensitive toward foreigners earlier. It’s best not to start thinking about these things and just say them, right?
8. The noisy neighbors have bought a clarinet to welcome the warmer weather and perhaps because they found out through the grapevine that I had recently learned to tune out their new viola. I declare the clarinet to be the adolescent boy of the wind instruments - it can’t seem to get through a bar of music without embarrassingly changing octaves. Also, it makes me want to send it to a far away boarding school until it turns 18.
9. The spring season encourages more men to yell more sexually provocative things at women in the streets. After living in New York for almost two years, I’ve stopped being so angry with this and have moved on to just wanting to provide constructive criticism. “Sexy, Sexy!” isn’t going to get you a response, let alone a phone number or a date. I just want to pull one of these retarded guys aside and say, “For Christ’s sake, try yelling ‘I can tell from your gentle face that you have a beautiful personality, and I happen to have this extra ticket to the ballet!’ or at least ‘he didn’t deserve you!’”
10. Just as the first flowers bloom and the first fruit grows gravid on the vine in other parts of the country, the trash along our street is ripening. While others are inhaling the light and relaxing perfume of daffodils and lavender, upon stepping onto my front stoop I am welcomed by the scent of the 90 poorly wrapped poopy diapers that my upstairs neighbor with seven kids has left on the curb and that have been baking in the sun all afternoon. While you take in the smell of fresh-mowed grass, I have to walk by the dumpster behind the sushi place - the stuff of olfactory nightmares after the temperature breaks 70. Ah, spring.
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