Around noon, the young woman who helps me with my mail left my apartment.
A few minutes later she sent me a text message: “The Occupy movement is in your street.” It turned out to be a small demonstration against Newt Gingrich who was busy fund-raising at the Union League Club, on the other side of the street.
I’m not completely paranoid, but for one second I was afraid that for reasons unknown to me I had become the target of the Occupy movement.
It’s not always clear where paranoia ends and vanity starts.