When the recent drops were only dribbles as people came and left County Market, no one was that concerned about the late-season dampness, but then the droplets became much more many, and how people dealt with it was determined by their clothing style. Its thickness and breadth of course, was the baromoter. Don’t forget the zipper.
A guy opened up to me and said, yup it may not be winter yet, so I coulda used that stemmed umbrella that I’d stowed at home, think in the garage. I added one word to him that told his tale too: December. It’s coming. So parkas. Your ‘brella might be by your closeted boots.
I being thus-prompted, as a woman happened by, passing by the on-special pumpkin bins with umbrella, then started the discourse between us — or she I? — with call and response, and it was much the same and well received. But not November Rain. That would be, if not then in snow form, in a couple of days. Maybe Purple Rain.
Third, a man came alongside me and paused, then spoke: “You have to work on your friend-making technique.” Seriously, was I that bad?!? And I wouldn’t have said anything if her umbrella had not unfolded right in front of me, when she was by a last display of flowers. And that unit from the woman before her, thus unfurled. Like those on a few guys still wearing shorts. The long form of these days. Extra pockets add added warmth.
— A singer I know says he is affected by the change in Daylight Savings Time like perhaps no other. Except when he gets it all out on stage when covering Sinatra, though the encore might be a couple of beats off and cut short. My germaine German family? No such notice.
But I must say, on Sunday, even though not a work day and having no set appointments, I found myself way thrown off by small matters of timing, starting with the going-on of football — just what hour is noon? I was on the phone with a — pajama-and-footies-clad as she told me — friend who signed off of our call since kickoff was fast approaching, but wait it was only 10:55! Not even a coin toss yet.
The rest of the day was better, as I thought I got in a full 90 extra minutes of work, not 60, but I still felt not on my best game. Like a QB being blitzed by all 11. Quick, what to do when a nose tackle comes at you? (But at a bad angle, so there is hope to side-step his big sorry butt.) I found myself often looking at the clock on the wall, and it says its 3 O’Clock — more than once? My routine of a two-hours-into-the-day constitutional, then trying to be slated for another two later, caffeine actually, felt like I just couldn’t get that timing right. And later, screw getting sleep meds timed well. So again, OCD anyone?
Across the way at the Hudson Public Library, which also houses the local police department, and is run by city crews actually, on Monday night the doors were kept closed and locked an hour ahead of time. Reason: Apparently no one in Hudson municipal government got the memo, about the time change, and thus put the doors on a different timing cycle. On Tuesday night, these same doors were kept propped open with wooden wedges from 7 p.m. to 8. They say it this way: “Where books are just the beginning.” OK. An OT locksmith probably could be used as well. —
Then a style foible, much like seen on a side street, where we go past the typical Michael Jackson one glove, and even the even harder to understand one tennis shoe, (how could someone not know you were missing it), and enters in the singular little black baby-or-just-bigger boot and a mere finger laying about, from a lime and olive glove.
There also has been seen a lone kiddo again glove, like a six-year-old would wear. After hours near bar time? Nearby, this white and blue, minus the red, glove also was roughed-edged, and it said, “Ruf flex Lite L.” Not Ice T.
Midstream, when outside County Market, the rains came more and more. Which way angled the walkers with their grocery goods? Using what aisle to get to their cars, far or near making a difference, changing their speed? Pace cars, picking up.
There could be a grocery bag or page of paper held over a head to block the wet? No, they are mostly hatless. No ear muffs yet. And coupon sheets were not quite 8-by-11.
But what was laid around their shoulders told the tale. It was not so cold that what’s around the waist, was not wasteage. And was that sweatshirt zipped up? And their cuffs folded over?
Down in falls comes the rain, first there are the sweatshirts, those people walking along with no sense of urgency, but no plastic coverings, just two kids in T-shirts who late were lukewarm to the lapping rain. Just strolling a bit. Before were the hoodies that brought a barely midstream response to the moisture coming down. Most had the necks puffed up, putting not much sprite in their steps.