The common cold

It was not lost on me that if today was, in fact, the coldest day in New York in six years — a factoid I heard repeated more than once leading up to the day, and then again later confirmed — then it was also the coldest day I’ve ever walked to work in Manhattan, since I started at my current place of employment in October of 2004, just a few months before that winter of 2005.

I have no trouble believing that today was the coldest day in several years, much less the coldest day so far of this year. It was bitterly cold in Manhattan, well around zero degrees all day, and made even more so thanks to the faulty heating in our office building. The heat wasn’t off, exactly, but it also wasn’t circulating much. We spent some time fondly remembering that one time, a couple of years ago, when it was the air conditioner that was busted, and the office was so hot they had to let us go home. And although I never thought I would be, I found myself strangely nostalgic for our old photocopiers. They weren’t very good, breaking down more often even than now our frequently-in-need-of-service current models, but they sure could pump out some heat. I think this, the last few hours that I’ve been home, is the first time I’ve been genuinely warm all day.

Though it could be worse, I suppose. Apparently I got out of Manhattan this evening shortly before a train stalled in one of the tunnels, causing all sorts of delays. I may have escaped the city mere minutes before the trouble started. My father, who usually works later than me, wasn’t so lucky — and he lost his scarf somewhere in the shuffle. And believe me, this is definitely scarf kind of weather.

It’s supposed to be considerably warmer tomorrow, but I think only because they’re predicting more snow.