You mean, of 2008, Earth, Wind & Fire?
Well, yes, I do. I had just arrived at my friend's apartment in Greenwich Village following a flight into LaGuardia, with two suitcases, my laptop, and bag. I stopped traffic on her little street because the driver of my car was yelling at me for more money, but I didn't understand him so I'm sorry, Driver, but I didn't give you a tip. Then onto Brother Jimmy's for dinner and then I proceeded to wake up every thirty minutes thinking I was going to barf. Not because of the food (delicious, and I don't even like barbecue), but I just effectively moved into the city with -say it with me now- no job, no apartment, so my nerves got the best of me that early morning as I psyched myself out with the prospect of unemployment and vomiting. Hey-o, what do you know? A year later, and both have come true, thanks to this crazy field we call journalism and a bout of food poisoning in October.
As much as I like to complain, and I'm good at it, this past year has not been all hand-wringing, nail biting, acne implosions, and stomach ailments. On the contrary, it's been a lot of candy eating, offset by walking almost everywhere, listening to Christmas music before Halloween, a lot of coffee drinking, writing, peculiar bug biting, visiting the library, popping into H&M, postponing laundry, drinking wine at 2am over duck noodles at a restaurant in Chinatown, and the list goes on and on.
And as my friend whose apartment I arrived at that first day gchatted me today: "Look at you; you're not sleeping at the Met!" Count your blessings.
