Number 27 and the Biggest Chill

Exactly 27 years ago Robin and I were married at City Hall on a lovely bright winter's day, bedazzled by the sun glinting off the World Trade Center twin towers when we emerged. Nowadays, a bit different. It's colder than the proverbial wiccan's breast, and I'm very glad I opted not to stick around for my firm's annual holiday bash after work, as that was at the Javits Center and the wind and cold are bad enough on 9th Avenue without a 7-block walk there and back to some sort of subway where we'd have to wait for the express bus anyway. Best to leave at 5, show my coworker my new shortcut (bypassing the worst of the Moynihan Hall and LIRR crowds by walking to the post office, then outside to cross the intersection to MSG and Penn, and walk through the much more pleasant NJ Transit area to finally end up at the tail end of the LIRR mess to catch our respective uptown trains. Robin and I had a pretty low-key anniversary, as we didn't want any delivery folks coming out in this weather, and I place another call tomorrow to the landlord's office to remind them they're not obeying NYC law with heat that keeps going off before it ever warms the place up. Wish me luck!