I woke up this morning and threw on a winter coat. It’s that time of year again; around the end of October, there is always a window of time in which the jolt of my alarm clock is followed by the realization that a new chill has permeated my bones. In apartments with radiators, there is always a discrepancy between the time the weather starts dipping and the time when the super turns on the heat. It’s not quite cold enough for me to call 311 and complain–though if history repeats itself, I might actually do it this year–but definitely cold enough for me to despise life a little as I pull myself to the kitchen to make a bowl of oatmeal.

Meredith Viera is such a soothing morning personality; I love waking up to her on Today for the half hour or so before I leave my place. I want her to wrap my scarf around my neck and fix my collar before she sends me off into the world. With thoughts of my Millionaire mother on my mind, I wouldn’t cede to irritation as I crowd onto an L train packed, as Ellen Degeneres would say, like pickles (not sardines). Meredith, I need you; I obviously have issues.

Alas, that’s not how life goes. I hate pushing my way through the L’s crowds, trying to get to the opposite side so that I’m closer to the doors on the other side, the ones that only open at Bedford Avenue and Union Square, where I’ll push through more people as I climb the steps to the Q, trying to gauge which people will climb faster. Nobody wants to get stuck behind an old man, his muscle and energy long gone, or a pregnant lady, carrying two burdens and adding to mine. Call it heartless, but social darwinism is a concept I thoroughly believe in as a make my way through rush hour crowds, bleary-eyed and cranky.

Eventually, I will find beauty in all of this. The man whose Metrocard elicits, “Swipe again, swipe again, swipe again at this turnstile, swipe again” as I wait for him, the sound of the train slowing into the station on the other side of the barrier. The girl singing a Kelis song in my ear as her elbow rests against the small of my back. The man taking up three seats because his testicles are apparently too large for one. Eventually, these people will endear themselves to me.

But not until my radiator turns on.

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Also, my train experience may not be great, but stories like this make me realize that things could always be worse.

Train defecator hunted by police

A man has been defecating in trains across south-east England, causing damage costing £60,000 to repair.

British Transport Police have released CCTV images of the man, who has struck on at least 30 trains since August.

He waits until he is alone before committing the offence, smearing excrement inside carriages.

“This is a serious public health issue as well as being exceptionally anti-social - we need to locate this man,” said Det Con Donna Fox.

She said his offences had resulted in many carriages being taken out of service, causing disruption and cancellations and serious inconvenience to the travelling public. [more - bbc.co.uk]

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Finally, thank you so much to the people who have offered donations for my webhost renewal; you’ve made a pretty sizable dent. Je t’adore!