God Bless the Hühn

Signs I have been gone too long:

1. The Upper Westside. Stores sardine-canned. Every time I bumped a shoulder: "Sorry" came swifter than a blink. "Oh," I would say. "Sorry!" A beat too late to count.

2. Rosemary's bathroom. Closing the door onto darkness. Split-second panic: Is the light switch outside? Or in?

3.  Lunch menu. Thursday: Grilled chicken salad. Friday: Grilled chicken salad. Saturday: Grilled chicken salad. Unbreaded. Unfried. Unschwein. I cannot get enough.