Sissy had a flood in her apartment from a toilet that overflowed, in a big way. Two inches of standing water found their way out of the bathroom to the lowest point of the apartment in the middle of the studio (who knew?), running for 7 hours, down to affect three other apartments [Edit: five other apartments - sigh]. Kick in the gut, but also a kick in the rear - maybe - for her.
Test of insurance and liability coverage too - that's why premiums get paid, right? So that headaches like this can be delegated away to folks who make it their business to deal with it and fix it. Only so much bandwidth and patience to go around for this mess; dealing with the aftermath has largely been delegated to Sissy. This Jungle Girl needs to keep the ship afloat and keep the bills paid. Balance.
And part of that bslancing meant keeping a date with the parentals to go view cherry trees on Roosevelt Island during its Cherry Blossom Festival. Necessary extrication from the headache. Sissy felt duty-bound and guilty, so she stayed behind to run interference with the neighbors and water. Her choices; understandable self-flagellation - not encouraged, but understood. But we can't all get mired into that cesspool, lest the world stop spinning.
So the rest of us went to Roosevelt Island. As did the entire city, it seemed. A perfect storm of beautiful weather and free Instagrammable event. The staff was overwhelmed. The infrastructure was overwhelmed. There was a logjam just leaving the subway. It truly felt the urban jungle, in all the worst ways. So often the city feels that way these days, propelling to the front doubt about the choice to eke out a life here.
Once free of the bottleneck, though, it was lovely. A reminder that oases exist (when metaphors get mixed).
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| Mural across from the tram station. |
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| Cherry trees on Roosevelt Island, looking toward Manhattan. |
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Double rainbow looking north out of the Orifice. After log flume weekend.             |
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