It is raining today. Not necessarily hurricane rains (or maybe even by-product-of-a-Gulf-hurricane rains) but enough to turn the subway station floor at the bottom of the stairs into a murky black pool, and also enough to make most subway passengers stop at the top of the stairs to open their umbrellas and, as such, trap the people waiting at the bottom of the stairs stuck in the aforementioned black pool. Which we will all pretend is just black with... soot. Or "dirt." And not any of the other potentially terrifying things it's probably chock full of.

I'm familiar with this phenomenon because pretty much every weekend when it's been inconvenient -- when I've had plans to go to an outdoor show or to drive for an hour or two through central Connecticut -- it's rained. On the day of Vampire Weekend at Rumsey Playfield (when we were about four thousand people back and wouldn't have gotten in anyway), on the day of MGMT at McCarren Park Pool (when we would have been about two thousand people back but managed to jump the line magically because my friend shook hands with the bouncer), even at TV on the Radio at McCarren Park last summer (when we managed to get in no problem and there wasn't a line even though there was for crappier shows this year). So basically, it only rains when I have a poorly planned music-related endeavour on tap.

Also, because my boss only went across the street for his lunch so I've had a salad from the same place like 3 times this week. Fortunately, it's a salad, so I doubt malnutrition will set in so quickly.