This happens every winter: It snows a lot, some of the snow melts, and every street corner in New York becomes just completely ruined. I live way out in Harmony Hall, which means I'm climbing snow mountains and jumping over snow puddles—I'm literally jumping in the air—seven or eight times just to get to campus. Four times to get a bagel. I'm watching middle-aged business-type people in dress shoes ford snow rivers. I'm seeing school children trudge shin-deep through ice water. I feel for these people. And, you know, I feel for my feet, which are happiest when dry.
