Saturday, January 9, 2010

So I just finished reading.... some book... about a couple... who moves in together.... and the trials and tribulations of blending their eating habits together...

I can't remember what it was called because I returned it to its owner.

It was good.

The couple in the book, a real -life story, live together in a small former industrial building in NYC.

Every time I read something about living in New York I have this insane urge to pack my entire life into a carry on suitcase and run off to live the studio apartment life.

Then I look at the kitchen gadgets I have shoved/hidden/forced into the undersized cabinets in the 2 bedroom apt I share w/ a roommate and realize that not in a zillion years could I fit all of my belongings into the type of New York apartment I could afford.

I think the entire idea of a studio apartment in New York City is this romantic fantasy I've toyed with since childhood. It probably comes from reading the "All of a Kind Family" books and fueled by too much Sex in the City throughout high school. There's something glamorous about living out a shoe box and looking like a rockstar with (as the all of a kind family would attest) huge family, terrific neighbors and a close knit community.

Now the reality of that is probably not something I want to become accustomed to. I'd have to toss half my clothes, most of the kitchen gear and learn the difference between streets and avenues. The clothes and kitchen gear loss I could handle.

The streets on the other hand is something I'd never adjust to.

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