The reflection in this shot is in the window over to the right. I like how you don't notice it at first, lost in the busyness of New York old (brick), new (glass), and even newer (scaffolding).
Another trip to the Apple store this morning and I am now in possession of the missing adapter. I said to someone that two weeks from today I'll be en route to Australia, but that's not exactly right. Thanks to the dark magic of the international date line, Saturday April 2 won't exist as far as I'm concerned. I'll get on a plane Friday night, and when I get off in Melbourne several hours later it will be Sunday morning; the clock will flip from 11:59 pm Friday to 12:00 am Sunday without pausing for even a second on poor Saturday.
I've gone to the Far East many times for work so this isn't my first lost day, but I completely understand why the early urban myth that there were riots in 1752 when Britain switched from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar and lost eleven days seemed as though it should have been true. (Though if I were going to riot about changes to the calendar I would have been far more upset by the fact that as part of the same shift 1751 was only 282 days long.) Calendars and watches make a comforting grid to rein in some of the huge messy sprawl of human life. No matter how much of a mess I make of Friday, when I wake up tomorrow it will be Saturday, and that's something I can count on.
Unless, of course, I'm on my way to Australia.
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