a bed and a chair.... Lyrics from Broadway Baby, a Sondheim anthem I first sang on stage in front of a thousand people when I was all of 5 or 6 years old opening one of Peggy McGlone's glory day dance recitals. And they say we don't write our own destinies?
Here I am - NY Naugs, happy to have shed the title of nomad for the next 7 weeks at least, as I swore of planes, trains and buses between my arrival home to Manhattan and when I head home for Thanksgiving the week of the 22nd.
Yes, I refer to both NYC and Newton as home, no I don't really own anything substantial in either place, but home is where your heart is, and my family and my dreams are effectively my heart, so there you go. As I told my best gfs, the Nook Girls, in a recent email update, I decided in late August to find a studio in Manhattan and forego my plan to spend the Fall abroad in Florence and Bologna for a place of my own to take my hat off and work my butt off from in NYC. And now, the race is on.
At my tiny flat, there's no cat, and to date no chair or desk for that matter - which I really do think I'll have to cave in and buy sooner than later if I mean to finish the book I'm writing, but there's ample space for me and what things I have that are not in storage. I have a futon that serves as bed by night and couch/office by day, all that I need in terms of a kitchenette, and cable TV which I doubt I will ever fully appreciate or use as much as some others would.
I also have a brand spanking new gym membership to a whole new franchise.
Oh, and Central Park for a backyard. nbd.
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