Dear diary,
at the end of the party we had for Bill de Blasio on Sunday, after most folks left and there were just a half dozen or eight of us, the heavens opened and there was crazy rain. We huddled under the tent and cracked open the anisette and the juju pongo's love balm and brought out some cheeses and fruit and maybe another bottle or two of wine and were guffawing along, all snug, when I saw that my iPod and sound-dockey-thing were out there in the rain, under the grapes, drip drip. Gzzzzzzp. Schwffffffpt.
OK, so after lunch yesterday I decided I'd pop into a shop by the office and buy another iPod. But they didn't have the model I wanted, and while I was deciding what shop to walk to next I noticed the little farmers' market by Bowling Green. I walked over to it, saw the fresh tomatillos and cilantro and peppers and... four dollars and fifty cents later I was headed to the office with a bag of goodies for the evening and wondering what I thought I needed an iPod for.
But what will save me today?
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