Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Little Things

I get a lot of minor thrills out of my current inhouse consulting job that, in aggregate, make me a relatively happy person.

No one gets into the office much earlier than 10:30 a.m., which, at my previous jobs, was LATE. In the morning, I snooze for an hour, eat cereal and go online for 45 minutes, take my time selecting shoes and stockings and lying down on the bed to zip my jeans up...

I leisurely leave my apartment, giving myself plenty of time to return for a forgotten umbrella or magazine.

I saunter down E. 26th Street, hanging left onto Third Avenue, crossing at the D'Agostino amidst their morning grocery deliveries. I hang a right on 24th Street and plow through the Baruch College students on their hungover way to class, weave around the television crews that are invariably telling me to take 23rd Street instead, and angle straight for Madison Square Park, where dogs are trotting their morning walk and emboldened squirrels are demanding their first hand-feeding of the day.

Just beyond the park, there's the Van Leeuwen ice cream and coffee truck, often situated in the morning at Fifth and 23rd. It's too early for ice cream, so the truck-bound baristas push their other sweet treats at you: delectable brownies, peanut butter and jelly cookies with real preserves, and heirloom pear tarts, all crumbled on plates and in bowls with tiny white plastic spoons for sampling. Meanwhile, they agonize over the cappuccino, and it is worth it.

If I miss the coffee truck in the morning because it's raining, or because it hasn't arrived yet, I count down the minutes until I can escape the office for lunch or an afternoon break and head for Joe The Art of Coffee on 23rd and Ninth, the least-busy Joe I've seen amongst its locations. They, too, take their time with my cappu, and they never run out of cookies, seats, or smiles.

When I am in the office, it's the smallest of achievements that fuel my fire: tweeting on behalf of a company that really has something going on, conferencing Felix from Basement Jaxx into a number of phone interviews, seeing an artist I pitched appear in a newsletter or on a blog, even saying I'm a publicist when clearly I am not.

But most of all, despite the joy I feel in working with a musical genre that I can actually palate, and artists whose recordings I actually choose to own, there is one small detail about my current situation that makes me the happiest: that it will end in a couple of months.

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