The Out of Towner

Today I had a visit from jo(e), my good friend IRL and fellow blogger--or, to be exact, my blogging inspiration. She was just over the bridge in Manhattan, on a family vacation, and I enticed her over to Brooklyn to see me by telling her about the express bus that would get her from lower Manhattan to my neighborhood in less than 20 minutes. (As an aside, I love the express bus and often take it to work, although guiltily, since it costs more than the subway).

I went downstairs to meet her as she was walking up my street. We took the elevator (notice I said "elevator," as in, "I no longer live in a fourth-floor walkup") up to my new apartment in my new neighborhood. I threw open the door dramatically.

Jo(e) was suitably impressed. More than impressed. She was so shocked by the size of the entryway and living room that she had to sit down for a minute. "Wow!" she kept saying. "This is big. This is huge. This must be twice the size of your other apartment."

I agreed, happily.

We walked around the apartment and her astonishment increased. "Wait--there's another bedroom. . . . And, look, it's a real kitchen, with a full-size refrigerator."

"Yes," I said.

Her enthusiasm made me happy. She kept saying, "Now I understand why you moved."

So, yes, the new place is great. I am still unpacking, figuring out where things go, figuring out where to go shopping for food and drop off the dry cleaning and discovering new things in the apartment and the neighborhood. Like, the other day, I accidentally touched something on the microwave, which is mounted below a cabinet and over the oven, and discovered I had turned on a light beneath it that illuminates the stovetop. Who knew?