At work, we're launching a significant upgrade to the site tomorrow, we still have a ton of development and testing to do today, the two big bossmen from D.C. are in the office, and they're taking us out for our office holiday shindig at 4:30 this afternoon and reportedly want to "party" with the New York crew, whatever that means.
Thus it was that, as superstitious as I am not, my step faltered a bit this morning while I was walking down 30th Street in Astoria on my way to the subway. A furry, glossy cat, black as a moonless country night, emerged from a driveway a bit further along and paced back and forth along the edge of the sidewalk as if weighing its options—or mine. I kept a close eye on it. I had come within ten feet or so of it when it made it choice and sauntered casually across my path to the garbage bags at the curb.
As I say, I am not superstitious, and it's a good thing, too. It really was a beautiful cat, and a pleasure to look at.
