Of Falafel and Moving Men

I think I’ve felt like breaking down and moving home more in the last two weeks than my entire time in New York combined.

First, the bed bugs have forced me out of my Upper East Side apartment and into a much roomier place in Williamsburg. It’s much nicer than my old building. I have a huge window, a roof, and I feel like I can actually breath without the floor squeaking. There is also a place that sells AMAZING falafel right down the street. While I am extremely thrilled to be out of my old apartment, the time leading up to the move can be best described as Hades. I couldn’t sleep because I felt like the bugs were crawling on me (they weren’t, but the mind can play extremely cruel tricks), my roommates were cold because I was moving out and they weren’t too hip on that idea (but, come on people…I’m not living with insects. I was paying 1500 a month for third world country conditions. No thank you.), and I was just…tired. Constantly tired. Incredibly tired. I couldn’t think right I was so tired. It took an entire weekend of sleep (and a manicure) to get me back to half way human.

On top of that, I’ve been sick. Which usually happens to me this time of year, but it was tragically horrible timing. It started the day I got back from LA. I started feeling a slight twinge in my throat and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. This rapidly escalated into a full-blown cold. It was disgusting.

So I’ve been feeling horrible. My head has been muddled. And I’ve been having to act like a grown up anyway.

Life sucks.

Well, until my Ikea furniture is put together anyway.