Mind Your Business, NYC

13 May 2010

It always amazes me how New Yorkers can step over a man who was stabbed to death and dying in the streets of Queens but if I take my spawn out in 55 degree weather and her calf is exposed, The Women of Spanish Harlem (I think it’s a sect) all feel the need to tell me how cold my baby is. I should buy longer pants, higher socks, thicker blankets, or perhaps a flannel sheath. Every time I tell myself that the next time I will go Harlem on them but I can’t bring myself to do it. Instead I say something like “She’s all warm and cozy and snuggled up and toasty and comfy and thank you so much for looking out for her.” I need a pair.

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