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Living in New York is Stupid

June 18, 2009

Yes, I admit it.  That isn’t a blank check to spend your life in middle management in Iowa.  I just agree with Kurt Vonnegut: “Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you too hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you too soft.”  I have to say, I’m really looking forward to living anywhere that could be described as “soft”.

I got back this week from a month in Minnesota.  My mom was impressed with my cleaning, but really, cleaning suddenly seemed almost pleasurable when you had a dishwasher, a washer and dryer, and a garage to take the garbage down.  Not to mention a car and a Sam’s Club membership.

In contrast, I live in Queens, and if you take out your recycling anytime outside your approved one night a week (Tuesday, miss it and you’re screwed), a guy named Vinnie jumps out of a van and beats you with a baseball bat.  You don’t even want to know what he’ll do to you if you try to slip some recycling in your garbage, or in a non-authorized opaque carbage bag.  It’s to the point that we cook fish dishes around garbage day, because we don’t want to be trapped in the house with fishy garbage.

Today is yet another day that I’m putting off disinfecting my dishes, because roaches or mice have crawled over the dish rack.  The roaches are coming up the drains, so I’m going to pour a ton of bleach and boric acid down them.  To get said bleach and acid, I have to walk to Duane Reade.  In pouring rain.  I went today, and I wanted to buy a mop, but they didn’t have mops or brooms.  Nice!

To top it off, not only did I have to schlep heavy bags full of bleach and bug spray, but Duane Reade gave me those awful bags with the hard plastic strap handles that made my hands and fingers look purple and mangled by the time I got home.

Oh, and now my neighbor is playing hard rock music.  I love New York.

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