Moved into director's house and it is some plush digs, I'll tell ya. House-sitter girl isn't there yet so I have the whole three floors to myself for now. My basement area is even better than I could've wished -- full bathroom, laundry, private entrance, tv that I can almost work and the full DVD collection of the Thin Man films. It's a mile from where I work but situated next to a nature preserve, so there's a big garden complete with wandering deer.
Previous to this, I stayed over at my boss's (the director's daughter) awesome house for a night, in her perfect neighborhood with her perfect family. Friday nights they have dinner and games with their close neighbors and let the kids hang out -- it's a domestic situation straight from tv. I mean, I'm sure it's the people and relationships that make her life so great, but it certainly couldn't hurt to have that much money.
Although I know moving to Kisco was the best thing to do, I will admit to openly crying when I left WP (though not in front of the dude). It seems so weird, but those three days were some of the best I can remember. Living with a sweet, educated man from the UK in a great apartment in the city -- for awhile there, I was living 14 year old me's dream. It was like a 50s tv marriage: get up in the morning, have our porridge together and listen to NPR, go our separate ways, come home at night and read the papers and talk, then off to separate beds. Do it all over again the next day. It was perfect, and even more so because we weren't actually married and I wasn't in love with him : what do I care if you see me when I first wake up? Look stupid when I can't add or parallel park? Don't mind if I do!
Tomorrow, I'm allegedly visiting my friend at her grandma's house in the city at Brighton Beach. It's going to be one big Russian Jewish adventure if I can just navigate the train and 3 or so subways to get there!
Now that I have definite and non-creepy digs, OK friend plans on visiting for an extended stay of glorious debauchery, which will necessarily include taking her to a Tragedy show -- every Tuesday night in Brooklyn, that's where I'll be.
This Thursday kicks off ten rent-free days in Manhattan...
I must be dead. I am dead and this is heaven. This seems entirely believable because I remember all the hell I passed on the way!
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