I can’t live in New York. I love New York. I can’t live in New York. I’m not sure what it was about this last excursion that solidified that in my mind once and for all that it would never be somewhere I would actually reside in but I 100% know that to be the case now. Maybe it was being yelled at by a stranger every day because everyone does seriously have mad anger issues. Maybe it was the fact that it took me an hour and a half and $16 just to go meet up with a friend from Austin for one evening. Maybe it was the fact that the exhausted looking girl carrying her week’s worth of groceries on the subway gave me some mad germ anxiety. Who knows how much subway that celery absorbed?
Point is, I’m spoiled. I like being able to wash my own clothes and drive to my friends’ houses and get my groceries in five minutes and be seconds away from the city and the lake all at once. My jadedness with Austin disappeared about 72 hours into this trip and I nearly kissed the humidity itself when I landed. Home.
Although Cobble Hill brownstones are cute. Like, legit cute.