Boy this past week has tested me. World events notwithstanding--I moved apartments, dealing with surly landlords and malfunctioning doors and a moody elevator. Who needs a gym membership when you spend days schlepping boxes and art and all the freezer stuff down five flights of stairs, hustle it all into a Zipcar, then schlep it all back up 2 more flights of stairs. Then hurry to return the car on time. But, I've cleaned and Goodwilled and the moving boxes were picked up and c'est finis--I'm out of the old and into the new!
Add to this the happy circumstance of 2 different sets of visiting friends plus a 206 friend's birthday celebration, and stick a fork in me, I'm happy but dunzo.
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Speaking of pressure, here's a delightful throwback: Flight of the Conchords' "Inner City Pressure."
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Gosh I thought I had a pretty good scam detector. I'm a lifelong cynic and so private I've been nicknamed The Vault. And then I got ...
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