Walking home from work is one of the best things about my not-so-new-anymore job. I've been doing it almost since I began, except for on days when it was too cold (below 32 degrees) or precipitating, or I had to be somewhere else. Until my co-worker friend joined me last Thursday,* nothing out of the ordinary** took place on my walks. Yesterday I walked home alone and again had a regular walk. Today my friend walked with me and we ran into a crowd of paparazzo outside of a building on Central Park West between 75th and 76th Streets. "Can you please wait a second before walking in front of us?" one man with a very expensive camera asked. We stopped out of curiosity. Who could be coming out? The building's doorman stood in the street holding a white dog, hailing a cab.

When the petite, dark haired woman with insanely high heels and platform shoes strolled out, I wondered who the fuck it was.

"Catherine, you look beautiful!" one of the photogs told her. Oh, Catherine Zeta-Jones!, I realized. She breezed by, got into the waiting cab, and the doorman placed the dog on the seat next to her. At first I forgot to be a blase New Yorker, and was excited to think that Catherine lived near me. Then I regained my senses and hoped that the doormen go on strike (a possibility, as their contract turns into a pumpkin at midnight tonight) because loose dogs do not belong in cabs.***

*Thursday, as I reported, I ran into anti-tax lunatics and counter-protesters who didn't understand what they supported. **Vehicles running red lights and nearly killing me as I cross the street. ***Unless they are going to the vet, but I'm pretty sure that she was headed to work, as she is in a Broadway show with Angela Lansbury.

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