In which I realize I may have left whatever writing skills I did I have back in Los Angeles

Aaaaaaaaaand we're back to crack den:

Excuse me, that's "crack HOME".  I don't want to be politically incorrect or anything.  

So, if you haven't guessed, I found a New York apartment - love it, love the neighborhood.  It just might be a while before I get some furniture.  Do you see that pile of books in the corner, though?  Doesn't that make me look like an intellectual crack head?

But seriously, what crack head has this view:

Hello, New York. 

 

I am paying for this view, though.  I have to walk up five flights of stairs to get here.  It's fine, except my ankles are terribly swollen, my arches throbbing and my knees are quite angry with me.  I've been hobbling around the city like Frankenstein.

I remember when I lived here before I used to walk around peering into other people's apartments, thinking "oooh, look!  What a great apartment.  If I just had my own apartment, I'd be so happy."  

I am very pleased with my apartment.  Now when I hobble around the city and look in people's windows, I think "oooh, look! I bet they have an elevator!"