Getting Perspective

As you may have noticed, I have not blogged for months. It's not that I've been busy. I haven't been busy for 7 years. And it's not that I'm lazy...I am lazy, but that's not why I haven't blogged. The cause of my blogblock was the total absence of blogworthy experiences. I didn't want to squander any of my 10 waking hours writing about minutia when I had so much to contribute to global well being. Why should I write a blog, when I could better allocate the time to making micro loans to Pakistani women, teasing out a new two state solution for Israel and inventing a silencer for the shrieking alarm on subway emergency gates?
After much soul searching, I realized that my blog and global well being are not mutually exclusive goals. I'm very close to getting looms. I've redrawn the map of the middle east, of course preserving Israel's security,and will shortly submit it to Hillary for her input. The silencer is only in its conceptual phase but the production stage is imminent. Having accomplished so much for the greater world, I can now refocus on my own little domain.
You can tell it's Spring. The fruit man is back on the corner of 14th Street and Eighth Avenue having wintered in Bangladesh. I know where he wintered because, to be polite, I asked him. Mistake. I'm now his friend. Maybe even his BFF. Our new relationship entitles him not only to overcharge me for the cherries but to complain about his other customers. "You see that? You see that?" He says everything twice while pointing to the culprit. "That's why I don't like to do business here. That's why I don't like to do business here." I never know what malfeasance the fruitbuyer has committed. As far as I can tell, he bought a banana. I wouldn't care about the fruitist's rant, but I'm sure that as soon as I walk away with my cherries, he'll tattle to his other bffs about some nefarious act of mine. "Did you see that? Did you see that? She sampled a grape. She sampled a grape."
It being Spring, the woman who begs near my office on Williams Street, is also back. I don't know where she wintered, but Creedmore seems a good bet. Ordinarily, someone poor enough to beg would warrant my sympathy, if not my money. Not her. I hate her. How can I hate a poor beggar, you ask? Today, when I walked past her without giving her money, she screamed, "You cunt." And to make sure I knew she was serious, she then yelled,"You really are a cunt." I'm not without a heart and this outburst alone from an obvious lunatic would not elicit hate, but it comes after last spring's daily outburst,"You need to color your hair. Your roots are showing." I could accept the "cunt" as a general epithet she uses for all women. But the roots? That was personal.
Writing today's blog has sharpened my perspective teaching me that some problems are more important to solve than others. First thing tomorrow, I'm coloring my hair.