2002-06-05 - 11:32 p.m.

Me: We better start looking for a bed if we want it to be delivered when we move.

Him: You sure you don't like my bed?

An aside: His bed? A futon. A good one, in a wooden platform bed frame, but a futon none the less. I am now 35 years old, and I need a damn box spring.

Me: We're NOT taking your FUTON.

Him: Ok, Trouble, first of all, you do not unilaterally make policies.

I crack up.

Me: Ok, you're right, but I can't sleep on that thing. And what's with the nostalgia about the futon? You LOVE the bed upstate, let's get one of those.

Him: That's fine. I just really like it, is all. I like it's simplicity. It's a good one, it's not a convertible couch, it's in the frame and everything.

I stop here, and think this over. This man entered into a contract for an expensive apartment he hadn't even seen, because he knew I'd be happy there. He gets up at 3 am upstate to lift my spoiled gimpy dog up onto the bed to sleep with us, and then falls back asleep with her cuddled up to him. All he wants is the futon, I can at least try it.

Me: Ok, you know what? Let's keep it then, if you really want to. We'll try it, and if it doesn't work out we'll get a bed.

Him: HELL, no. The last thing I need is you holding the bed against me.

Hm. Seems maybe I'm not the shining example of a good girlfriend I imagine myself to be. I did cook dinner tonight, AND do the dishes. That's something, right?

One of the things I'm going to miss about this apartment is how close to the street it is. It's on a corner, at an intersection of two residential streets, so most of the noise is from people. It always feels like I'm right in the middle of things, even when I'm alone in my apartment. All the life out there is palpable. With the windows open, on any given night, I hear a fight, and someone singing, and drunk people talking way too loud, and the bus pulling up, people talking on the corner, sitting on the bench, arguing,flirting, laughing and crying. And even though it keeps me up at night, I realize I'm going to miss it. I can stay in all weekend and not feel isolated.

And I love this funky little walkup with the crooked stairs.

And the new apartment is awesome, it's a luxury apartment of sorts, although it's in a charming pre war building that's been carefully preserved. But there's a doorman, and an elevator man, and 11 flights between me and the ground. Isolated. I'm sure I'll get used to it, especially since I'll be able to open the windows, with no screens, and have it be QUIET.

But I won't miss the fucking pigeons. I HATE pigeons, to me they're rats with wings, and in this city they are extremely aggressive. Every time I go to the park with a cupcake from Mag0li@, they circle around me, coming closer and closer, eyeballing my cupcake. And when there's too many, and they come to close to my feet, I freak out a little, I feel like they're going to attack them and peck the hell out of them, and then I have to stamp my feet and scare them away. And today, on the sidewalk, I saw one EATING DOG SHIT. Definitely the most revolting thing I've seen today, and there's been a few.

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