Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

We had the mini-van again. My parents were biking from Prague to Budapest and left their light blue 2006 Honda Odyssey in our clutches for the duration. They were barely dropped off at the airport before Tom and I had schematics of the large objects which were about to get moved around. And so we found ourselves careening up 8th Avenue in the pouring rain last week, hauling a gigantic table. Our plan was to drop the table off at our apartment and then head uptown to see a one-man-show entitled, “ My Son the Waiter: A Jewish Tragedy ." It was not going well. First of all, as soon as you put a light blue Honda mini-van with Pennsylvania plates in the proximity of the Holland Tunnel, you get every snot-nosed driver within eye shot honking at you and trying to cut you off. Like you’ve got the wheelsmanship of some kind of slow-witted floppy bear-like animal.  Just because my father has a decal of some kind of slow-witted floppy bear-like animal stuck on the hatchbac

(Photo: Christopher Anderson/Magnum Photos/New York Magazine)  http://nymag.com/news/features/housing-projects-2012-9/index3.html Two black guys were one step above us on the escalator riding up to the movie theatre on the top floor. They were big. Big with baggy pants, ink on their fingers, and baseball caps pulled low. On their hoodies were some words in that graffiti typeface I can never read. I thought about these dudes being in the darkened theatre with us. And I felt so relieved.  After all, it's always some white guy who shoots up movie theaters.  Tom went over to get popcorn while I created hypothetical scenarios in my head. Let’s say these guys are from the worst project in the city…  what would I think if they had a weapon jammed down their pants?  Certainly not ideal. Not even good. But it’s probably more likely they'd be the ones to save the lot of us than some vigilante suburbanite who has never been in the army or any other well-regulated

I read “ The Magic of Tidying Up ” by Marie Konto and have been walking around my house chucking random objects ever since. Marie would be aghast. She is squarely against intermittent tidying and more in favor of the tsunami approach. In case you were unaware, this Marie Konto is a cult leader. If you read the book and then you do not properly follow directions, you feel like you just got put on the universe's naughty short list. Sadly I suck at following directions, ask any of my lopsided DIY endeavors. This is why I’ve spent the past month seeking off-road tidying opportunities. I want to write my own rules like Sacajawea and her sidekicks Lewis and Clark. I want all the glory while lounging on my petard in fuzzy slippers surrounded by piles of old magazines. Tidying Up while Lying Down: This morning on the sofa, I have a genius idea. I will sort my iTunes playlist by “date last played” and then consider getting rid of  mp3s I haven’t listened to for awhile. Hard drive