I'm home alone tonight.

Sarah and Asher are sleeping at her parents' in Queens because of the transit strike.

The last time New York City faced a crisis it was the Blackout a couple of summers ago. Everyone weathered it with good cheer and camaraderie.

This time, there's no cheer, no camaraderie. It's cold. It's the end of the year. Everyone's got a lot of work to do, a lot of presents to buy, and no time to be upbeat and hearty.

Tomorrow, I might have to blow off an important meeting, bike to Queens, pick up Asher and the car, and return home in time to put him to bed. Sarah will have to find her way home from work. She might be able to hook a ride with some colleagues. Hopefully.