So 5 years ago

I never mentioned this, but Sunday marked 5 years since I moved to the city. 2004 doesn’t sound like it was that long ago, but I dare you to look at a picture of yourself from 2004 and not gasp. I just did it. I don’t look drastically different or anything, but those highlights were working overtime. Wow. I was 24. If you’re as good at math as I am, you can figure out how old I am. Use addition.

Our first two months in the city were spent in a sublet in Astoria, and God help me, I know I grew up in Texas, but you've never felt heat like 98 degrees in a 6th floor walk up in Queens with no air conditioning. I remember a few times waking up in the middle of the night and seriously considering sleeping on the roof. I think the only thing that deterred us was the fact that the tar on the roof was melted and gummy from the heat and we didn’t want to ruin the sheets. It was miserable. But even then, I don’t think we ever regretted our decision to move. See, it just got sentimental. Took me no time to get there. I can turn that around in an instant. I should write for Scrubs, they’re always doing that.

Anyway, happy anniversary, New York. You’re kind of abusive at times, but I still love you. I know, you’re sorry and it’ll never happen again. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have made you mad. I’ll go get you a beer.