#356, Boerum Hill, Brooklyn
It's something of a pathetic fallacy, I realize, to claim that a trio of jumbled, disjointed numbers is an outward manifestation of my current inner state, but I'm just gonna go out on a limb here and say that there's something uncanny about the resemblance.
What's interesting about this one is they didn't even try to make that 3 and that 6 stand up straight. Nope. This was chaos and failure from the outset. The dude with the screwdriver or the Krazy Glue wanted this to look like numerical soup. While I want to applaud that move (you know, in that "it's healthy to embrace imperfection in all its forms, especially when you're a detail freak" way), I just can't bring myself to do it. Life is complicated enough. Can't you just line up your numbers properly so the nice lady with the camera and the nose ring doesn't start shaking uncontrollably? Seriously. Do not make me get out my t-square. Things will get ugly, fast.
The end of the year jitters. Nothing a few lists and a few glasses of mulled wine won't cure.