Every now and then I am reminded that I live in a really unique place, and I don't mean New York. I mean Chinatown. This morning, on my walk to work, I saw this Chinese man on the corner with a cart, like you would see in the kitchen of a restaurant. The cart was covered by old boxes with various kinds of seafood labeled on there. And these weren't new boxes. They were the kind of boxes I find in the hallway of my building when it's snowing and they don't want you to slip on the tiles. The light changed and the man started across the street with his cart. That's when I saw that hanging in the cart were about a dozen fully cooked ducks, probably about to go hang up in the window of some restaurant. Maybe it's just me, but I don't need my Peking duck to cross Canal street, or ANY street, covered by a bunch of sick old seafood boxes. But that's just me. Maybe Chinatown is like Mordor. One kitchen to rule them all? I'll have to ask Rory about that one. She spent approximately 13 hours in Middle Earth once.
In other walk to work news: it's freezing.