Things That Make Me S.A.D.

The leaves are falling faster than the Dow. Every day, the giant tree at the entrance to the Hummerville train station gets a little more sparse, the pile below it a little thicker.

The chilly air finds every gap in your coat’s defenses as your bike flies down Broad Street.

It’s just about dark when you get home from work.

Instead of people in Yankee jerseys on the 6 and Mets fans in Grand Central, it’s dopey Rangers fans milling about in our train stations. Fans of a game played on ice.

The outdoor patio at Pershing Square, across from Grand Central, shrinks commensurate to the big tree in Hummerville. Each week, a few more tables are taken away, until everyone is moved inside until spring.

I never really minded the encroaching cold seasons when I lived in the city. Most of my fun happened indoors anyway, often in places with the prefix “Mc.” (No, not McDonald’s.) Cold weather was just something you dealt with during short hops from Place A to Place B.

Now I come to dread the cold months, the mornings where it’s too cold to bike, too cold to play with Little G outside. I dread switching the clocks in a few weeks, and having it be freakin’ dark when I leave work. I dread the onset of Slippery Rail season, though Metro-North did a wondrous job slaying that infernal beast last late-fall.

I’ve noticed a distinct aroma as I ride home these days–the thick smell of fireplace smoke, much thicker and much earlier in the season as everyone dreads that first Con Ed bill that equals a week’s wages.

Five months till spring.