I'm now in the Bronx on the last stop on the 6 train. Last night, it took me 76 minutes (turnstile to turnstile) to get home. I really took the tunaville trolley. Why do trains seemingly go slower at night? I noticed that. At six o'clock, we just zipped a long.
So that's bumming me out. I'm living in an old house with few electrical outlets and no basic cable television. I feel like I'm living with Patty and Selma and their tongue sandwiches.
Here's what's good about the place:
- Starbucks beans (one of the roommates works at Starbucks)
- A bevy of unsecured wireless connections in the neighborhood. I'd be lost without them. Lost.
- A great showerhead that I can take off the thinger and get everything clean. At the old place, it just stood over me and whined.
I know that I'm bummed out just because of the change of scenery. People get depressed when their surroundings and routine changes. It's a fact.
I have to go into Manhattan today and now I have to plan everything well in advance. There's no going back and forth. That shit ain't happening.