January 1 is my must-move-by deadline. For most of my hunt for an apartment, I've cast my gaze away from Manhattan. A good part of that choice is practicality. Rentals have gone crazy. But if the price of an apartment weren't an issue, I think I'd have made the same choices.
There's something fresh and wonderful about starting anew. The field of possibility feels eternal and electric. But once I mentally move myself to this imagined spot, put linens on the bed, the dishes away, set up the TV and computer, I wonder, what will I then do? Where will I go?
Manhattan. It's so here, so forgiving of my wishy-washy affections. Manhattan is the perfect husband, loving me unconditionally; the best friend who is not too busy with kids and etcs.
Manhattan is my Saturday night date, my Sunday walk in the park.
Followers
