Sometimes when doing dishes or working in the office at non-writing tasks, I enjoy listening to Bloomberg business radio online. I only understand about 12% of what I hear there, but I enjoy the word jazz of biz-investo-speak, and do learn a thing or two. But I especially treasure the vicarious sense of being in New York (through the ads and the traffic reports I can envision Times Square, the Brooklyn Bridge, the yellow cabs pulsing and merging and honking, the vitality of that place) even as I plod along here in rural Wisconsin. At 6:30 a.m. this morning I am told things are all jammed up on the inbound George Washington Bridge, but from where I sit I see nothing but a touch of fog clogging the valley.
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