The Great Umzug - It's Friday, I'm In Love.

Friday, my Boss, who thinks I'm occasionally moderately funny, let me take the day off work which was very gracious of him because the timing was not very convenient. But I do not doubt that I couldn't have gotten the Move accomplished without this spare day.

I headed over to my Broker's office to pick up the keys and a signed copy of my lease. Akira had typed up a little mailbox tag with my name on it. Two, in fact. One with just my last name and a second with my first and last name. I chose to put up the one with just my last name so that I could fool intruders away with my tough sounding last name; they won't notice there's a girly chick living there unless they get close enough to hear me blasting Peggy Lee... Akira also traced all the keys and labeled them, so I'd know which ones go in which locks. Totally worth that 11% of one year's rent.

Instead of going directly to the apartment, I went to a local coffee shop for an iced coffee and a scone, the only food I was to eat until 10:30pm that night. Akira walked in. Alright! This is my hood. We all live here. Community. I have visions of Akira being my new best friend, even though I only understand about 50% of what he says to me. The scone was Rocky Road and had marshmallow baked inside.

Notice how this day is starting out nice and normal? Sure, I still have a lot of packing to do, but I'm calm. Things are fine. Perhaps now I should mention that it is a steamy, humid day in Brooklyn and everyone is sweating. It stays this humid nearly all weekend.

I walk two blocks to the apartment, fuss with the keys and let myself in. I think I feel tears begin to well up in my eyes. Oh little apartment, you are mine, all mine, and I love you. I am a little nervous about how small the apartment actually is, but I know that everything will be fine. I actually begin to caress the window trim. I run around opening and closing doors, turning on lights and faucets; I pee with the door open. I am overcome with joy. The apartment has been freshly painted and the windows are open a crack but it is still very hot inside, I decide to head to Target before I have to keep my date with Keyspan.

How to Spend More Money At Target In One Weekend Than You Earned at Your First Summer Job

I live within walking distance of the only Target in Brooklyn, formerly the only Target in New York City. Granted, it's not a particularly nice walk, so I hop on the #41 bus which stops two blocks from my house. My goal is to pick up some necessaries: shower curtain, spring tension curtain rod, curtains, kitchen waste basket, step ladder, cleaning supplies, yadda yadda yadda. Now, I am an avid Target consumer, but after an hour in Target I start to go crazy (as compared to a Sanity Threshold of 15 minutes in Wal-Mart). Mainly because I could not find any curtains I liked- and curtains were very essential as my new place is on the ground floor and there is a large window in my bed/livingroom that faces a busy street. Also, someone got the bright idea to store kitchen waste baskets in one area, and waste basket lids in another. Some are labeled "I am base S. Match me with a Lid S". Some are not. This caused much confusion. Also, I wasted a ridiculous amount of time trying to buy paper towels in a size less than twenty rolls (does not exist at Target) and comparison shopping disposable toilet brushes. By the time I made it to the upper level, my sanity was a distant memory, leading to some interesting decisions like, "Mermaids. I think the theme of the bathroom should be mermaids."

Coming out of Target laden down with stuff, I decided to take a cab home. The story my cabbie told me was so long and crazy it needs to be published in a separate appedix* here.