Today I went for a walk after work...

It was nice out. Well, it was nice, but not that nice. You know what I mean, it was so so at best, but I'll take that any day over cold, dreary, and wet. It was just dreary. Some people thought it was cold. I thought it was just fine. Just fine.

I coughed a bit. I've been coughing a lot lately. Caught myself a cold. What does that mean actually: "caught myself a cold"? What, am I running around with a glove on my hand? A basket in out stretched arms? My mouth open, gaping, hoping that an unsuspecting germ lands comfortably on my tongue? It's as though the phrase implies an expectation of acquiring the cold, as though I'm actually seeking one out. I'd like to think that my cold is entering its final stages. I think I had a fever early on last week. I actually missed a day of work. Now phlegm is minimal, but I still have a little cough.

When I concluded the first portion of my walk at the Community College T station, several girls were huddled in the stairway going down to the platform and the first thing that popped into my mind was "What are they doing?," followed shortly by "Why are they in MY way?" and this thought process was finally concluded by "Now, Now, George- they are just cold. Everyone is different".

Eventually my train came and dumped me out at Oak Grove where I proceeded to walk to my apartment. On the way home I saw two women walking side by side on the small sidewalk toward me. I prepared for the ritualistic dance of giving room so we each would adjust our trajectory with minimal changes. As the encounter approached it became clear that I did not appear to exist to them, and if I did, we were locked in a terrible game of chicken. Ultimately I cowered and yielded. I clearly am less important than they, and a less significant being. Now I am home, and I'm preparing for a new day's worth of coughing, observations, and near misses in the dangerous life of a pedestrian.