I woke up in a closet.

It looks like I’m moving to Ridgewood, Queens. I looked at an apartment with Scott on Sunday. It’s in a prewar building, one bedroom, living room, kitchen, hardwood floors, nice tile in the bathroom, new appliances. Whatever. And it’s on a really nice block that’s incredibly close to my sister. There’s tons of families and kids on the block, and there are a bunch of Polish delis. Right near the M train and B38 also.

It’s been hot. Nearly 100 degrees hot. What I hate most about the heat is the fact that no one can find anything else to talk about but how fucking hot they’re feeling. It’s obvious, move on and get a popsicle. Which I did yesterday. The cooling effects of the popsicle lasted all of 15 minutes before I’d have to lay in bed motionless before a fan to feel my body temperature stabilize. Aside from staying cool, my only concern is my northern european genes that make me so fair-skinned/borderline albino, and the gaping hole in the ozone layer that burns me like a bug under a magnifying glass. I have to wear sunblock even if I’m going in the sun for half an hour.

I read this article this morning before work about the “arena” opening up, and neighborhoods like Proho (Prospect Heights. EW. Why are they calling it that???) are now becoming home to cheaper restaurants that have the chic and palate of Manhattan places. I think it’s cool that there’s more and more stuff to do in Brooklyn because it’s closer to me and I love hanging out here. At the same time, I wonder if the higher concentration of stuff to do in Brooklyn will change the borough to make it have all of the characteristics of Manhattan that make me avoid it most of the time.

Then I’ll become a hermit and move to suburbia. Speaking of suburbia, I think I might go to CT this weekend.