Instead of looking down on the Plaza Lighting Ceremony from my apartment (my usual ritual), I took in the festivities from ground zero. "Elizabeth" had choreographed one of the dance acts leading up the actual Throwing of the Switch, so I spent the first half of the show sipping coffee from the comfort of a makeshift below-ground staging area.
The lighting culminated in a fireworks display. Elizabeth and I weathered the subsequent mad exodus from the Plaza in my apartment, then descended to the anarchic streets. (RVs like giant metal cocoons; barely glimpsed tourists wielding champagne bottles.)
We're thinking of moving in together, probably within the next couple months. The apartment we have our eyes on is one of the best I've seen from within: hardwood and black-and-white checkered floors, lots of room for books and knick-knacks, and a nice view of the fountain court below.
Meanwhile, my own apartment is ailing from neglected water damage, the discolored plaster walls bulging like the landscape of some Jovian moon.
1 comment:
Congratulations! That's exciting news.
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