morning observations

Today on the way to work we came across a strange sight. A full-size mattress laid across a loveseat in the front yard of a small house—classy—and leaning against this comfort contraption was a man. Having been stopped by a red light we were able to observe him closely. In his left hand he held an empty soda can and in his right a butter knife. As we watched he scraped the knife across the can, as if to whittle it. Of course, he was having a hard time of it. Even a sawing motion would not cut the can in half. Back to whittling. I was baffled. J suggested that he’d been locked out of the house and was now in the process of whittling himself a key. I challenged his theory: why would the man need to get into the house when everything he needs to live is outside on the front lawn with him? The answer was simple: he needs to use the bathroom.

When we got to my building I saw an old man in a business suit, standing completely transfixed on the sidewalk. He was staring at a newspaper dispenser, looking intensely perturbed. I looked more closely before we zoomed into the parking garage. It was The Onion.