A quick note about my encounter with a sidewalk psychic:
After a lunch out, Beth and I decided to pay a visit to a palm reader who's often parked out on the sidewalk on 17th Street. She led us up to her to her fourth-floor walkup, which was unsettling unfurnished and freshly painted. The only thing visible in the whole place was a very nice high-definition TV in the corner. After negotiating how we wanted her to pick our brains, she sent Beth out of the room and she and I squatted on the blue carpet for a palm reading.
It started out innocently enough. She said I had a long life line, to which I said thank you. She told me I would be traveling soon -- which was true enough as I'm off to Aruba tomorrow, but then again it is June, and everyone's traveling. She told me I was centered in work (meh), and things would get even better in September. So far so good.
Then the subject turned to my love life. She looked sternly at me. "You're not so centered in love," she said. "True?" "True enough," I said. She looked again, and then she almost started yelling at me. "You need to move on! You need to let go!" she yelled. "It's not time for romance. Stop searching -- it's time for play! Look at your life line, you have enough time!!" Err...okay... "I'm trying!" I said. "I can tell you more for ten more dollars," she said. I declined, and slunk out of the room to get Beth.
I didn't tell Beth until we were back on the street. She just laughed and laughed...