Around the Corner.

Sometimes, I forget.

At times it can be a bit tiresome living the single girl life, day in, day out. You do your thing, you make your own schedule, you set your own rules. I have always been a firm believer in dressing up whenever the situation may call for it. It's just one of my rules. You dress for the job you want, not the job you have. You put your best foot forward, you set your goals high, you GO GET 'EM. But, oy. There are days. We all have them. You are grumpy and annoyed and frustrated and stressed. It's during those frustrating times that you might catch yourself wondering what, exactly, is the point? Why bother?

Earlier this week I had just one of those days. We're in the midst of a gorgeous spring here in New England. While lovely, this weather can cause a dressing conundrum. Is it too warm for tights? Boots? Will I be cold with bare legs? Where are all my spring weather skirts? What winter item should I squeeze one more wear out of as we leave the season?

You know how it goes.

There I am, smack in the middle of last week, waking to one of those days. Lying in bed I listen to the radio telling me that maybe it'll be chilly, maybe it will be warm, maybe they have no idea what-so-ever and I'm already feeling tired and cranky and stressed about all I need to do before I leave for Ireland, boo hoo hoo, pity party, sob, sob, etc. So, I throw together an outfit. There are tights, boots, and -my current favorite- nautical stripes involved. Then I proceed to have the sort of day at the office where I'm slammed from all sides and by the end of the day I walk out the front doors wondering how I can squeeze more hours into a workday, while simultaneously picturing my mile-long to-do list, of which I wasn't able to cross a single thing completely off of all the live-long day.

When I finally make it underground at the T station I walk a few paces down the tracks to a spot guaranteed to be right in front of the arriving subway car. A man smiles at me, I smile back, reach for my commuter reading material.

He nods, smiles again. "Are you coming from work?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Did you just leave work?"
"Um, yes I did."
"Well, that's quite an outfit."
"Oh, well...thank you."
"I mean it. What a treat for your co-workers."
"Um, well, thanks. That is very nice of you."

The train arrives, complimentary gentleman and I part ways en route to open seats. I crack open my Vogue and smile, in spite of myself. Every fiber of my body knows that complimentary fellow was not hitting on me or being a creep or anything my urban dwelling mind keeps her guard up about. He was, truly, just being nice.

And oh, how I had needed a dose of nice right then.

We arrive at a busy T stop, one with several different subway lines. My nice fashion man gets out of his seat to switch trains. I look up and smile, he nods back and says, seriously, the boots are fantastic too. And with that, he's off my train, never to be seen again.

He's made my day. Little does he know.

I firmly believe that every once in awhile people - strangers - are planted at just the right spot, at just the right time, right when we need them. If we look hard enough and are very lucky, every once in awhile we can catch them.

I'm glad I was paying attention.