Since moving to the city a month ago, I've discovered all sorts of phenomenal things about living here... but today I am particularly grateful for what I am afraid is an often over-looked and under-appreciated aspect of the New York City lifestyle. And that is the freedom from doing my laundry! At first I thought it was amazing when I was able to drop off and pick up my laundry the next day, but this weekend I discovered the absolute ideal... same-day pick-up and delivery service--meaning that I can call the darling couple that runs the 79th Street Laundry Service and they'll send someone over to pick up my dirty clothes. For just one extra dollar they'll come get my 22-pound bag of laundry (seriously, 22 pounds!) and return it later that afternoon with the most impeccable folding job I've ever seen! I'm telling you... these people are incredible! If it were a publicly traded company I would DEFINITELY invest, as opposed to my company's various 401K funds for which I have no passion whatsoever!
P.S. As Kate Connolly now-Anderson so astutely pointed out, it's Cadbury mini-Easter egg time, and considering the early Easter we're facing this year, I recommend you follow our lead and stock up now before you find yourself in a post-Easter funk without any of the world's greatest creations! But I would NOT recommend that you do what I did by putting a bag into your desk drawer (the BIG bag) and eating it egg by egg (only pulling out two or three at a time) until it's gone and you spend the evening embarrassed and nursing a stomach ache!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
Waiting on my Montage: Cue The Music
Apparently I live in New York, where every morning I wake up surprised by my surroundings. And every day I find another reason that I love the city. And every day I get more and more nervous about the impending busy season.
And any time people ask me about living here I feel like such a poser. I don't wear cool clothes. I don't know what a hedge fund does. I don't make a million dollars. And what's worse--I don't even care to make a million dollars... All of which are exile-deserving flaws, so I'm trusting that you won't tell. It'd be a shame to be kicked off the island after finally finding an apartment and signing a year lease! (Which consequently is for an apartment you are all invited to visit. I say invited because I'm trying to sound polite and hospitable, but as I get more desperate and homesick for all of you, this will likely turn into more of a demand--so start saving money for your flights and broadway shows now. Consider yourselves fairly warned.)
So… there is a definite movie-like quality to living in the city. As I'm essentially walking through the scenes of You've Got Mail, I feel undoubtedly like I'm in a movie! as an EXTRA, which is serious cause for concern. I ought to be the LEADING LADY of [my] own life!'---true words of wisdom from an adorable (albeit fictitious) old man that struck a chord and prompted Steph to create a phenomenal playlist-gumption.
But alas, until the music starts playing, the romantic interest enters, and time starts flying (all while I'm getting movie-star-skinny AND becoming extremely competent at my job with seeming ease), I'm stuck in the real world where I have to grow up one day at a time. So if only my ipod hadn't broken I could turn the music up really loud and PRETEND that my life had its very own montages that fast forward through some of the tough going and would help me wake up on the other side of April 15th.
And any time people ask me about living here I feel like such a poser. I don't wear cool clothes. I don't know what a hedge fund does. I don't make a million dollars. And what's worse--I don't even care to make a million dollars... All of which are exile-deserving flaws, so I'm trusting that you won't tell. It'd be a shame to be kicked off the island after finally finding an apartment and signing a year lease! (Which consequently is for an apartment you are all invited to visit. I say invited because I'm trying to sound polite and hospitable, but as I get more desperate and homesick for all of you, this will likely turn into more of a demand--so start saving money for your flights and broadway shows now. Consider yourselves fairly warned.)
So… there is a definite movie-like quality to living in the city. As I'm essentially walking through the scenes of You've Got Mail, I feel undoubtedly like I'm in a movie! as an EXTRA, which is serious cause for concern. I ought to be the LEADING LADY of [my] own life!'---true words of wisdom from an adorable (albeit fictitious) old man that struck a chord and prompted Steph to create a phenomenal playlist-gumption.
But alas, until the music starts playing, the romantic interest enters, and time starts flying (all while I'm getting movie-star-skinny AND becoming extremely competent at my job with seeming ease), I'm stuck in the real world where I have to grow up one day at a time. So if only my ipod hadn't broken I could turn the music up really loud and PRETEND that my life had its very own montages that fast forward through some of the tough going and would help me wake up on the other side of April 15th.
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