Fri 30 Oct 2009
I have someone subletting my apartment because why not? I love couches.
Currently I’m sleeping on a grayish green sectional in Dumbo. It’s the perfect length for my toboggan-like physique and firm like the buttock of a California governor. The best part is the disgustingly cute Burmese cat named Fredo that lives there. He wakes me up by licking my nose. “Hee hee, stop it Fredo, that tickles, okay okay, I’m up, jeez.” Every morning.
My last couch was a pull-out in Carroll Gardens. No cat but a free NY Times delivered every morning in a blue plastic bag. Nothing like photos of angry Iraqis first thing in the morning to get your blood flowing. And who gives a shit about the Metro Section? Am I right New Yorkers?
Before that, I was staying with a good friend also in Carroll Gardens. While there we slept in the same bed. She’s a girl! We slept in the same bed! AND she slept bra-less! But with a sweater. Nothing happened. We were like two spoons on opposite ends of a silverware drawer. Me a soup spoon and her a spoon without a bra.
Before that, I had a Queen-sized bed and my own room in a paid-for luxury apartment. It was okay.
Thursday, I move back home after four long months. Back with my cat who doesn’t lick my nose in the morning but has soft stripes and a pink nose. There really is no place like home. Except for the places that aren’t your home.
BTW, I’m glad baseball season is over.