The long, bitter winter has finally come to an end. You can finally stop stomping through slush in your heavy boots, sagging under the weight of your thick pea coat and wearing that stupid Urban Outfitters knit beanie with the ear flaps. You can finally start moving. Well, you could, if everything wasn't blocked off by construction crews. Construction is a perpetual reality of New York summers. You'll find yourself walking down a block you haven't been down in several years, and everything will have changed, except for that gang of workmen still laboriously filling that same pothole. Construction will not cease until after Labor Day, but every week a new crew will begin a project that further complicates your already labyrinthine route from the subway to the office.

Don't worry: the boys in orange will find plenty of time to jack hammer outside your window at 6:30 a.m. sharp, and they'll be sure to sexually harass any women who walks by wearing anything more scandalous than the attire of a Victorian school marm. Hey, they've got to do something to pass the time. How else are they going to string the project along until the fall?