Not Crazy... Yet

I don't think it's fair that I have to work an eight hour day plus another hour for lunchbreak and an hour of commuting time. That's ten hours of my life every day! Okay, that's enough complaining for now. You already know that I'm sick of my job. I'm always so eager to get out the door and on my way home when it's time to go. In fact, when I left work tonight, briskly walking down the street toward my subway stop, I was so eager to get home that when I suddenly heard the familiar strains of Rossini's William Tell Overture strike up and begin to play, I just knew I had finally lost my mind. Thinking I was imagining the sounds, I nevertheless decided to just embrace craziness, and I began to walk faster, picturing myself galloping home like the Lone Ranger on his white steed. Then I realized that there was a car parked on the side of the street with all the windows down, and a lone guy just sitting there blasting the song from his stereo. Now, living in Harlem, I'm familiar with guys lounging around with all their car windows open blasting some sort of hip-hop music or a baseball game, but I never knew that the classical music fans of midtown did the same thing. Now I know it really is a small world, and also that I'm not crazy.