Welcome!

So, yesterday I moved into my apartment on West 162nd street, a location that features not only my lovely roommates Stephanie and Conrad, but also creaky elevator, a youth carrying a baseball bat (hidden behind his back; very clearly for beating folks with) and a street preacher with a megaphone every Sunday.  Our third roommate, Patrick, has yet to arrive and in his place we have Colin, a trumpet-player attending Juliard and one of the students we are leasing the apartment from.  

The move-in process was hectic, but after a brief flurry of people and an excessive amount of double-parking my belongings were suddenly shoved into my little room.  And so my unpacking adventure began.  It continues to this very day.

The apartment itself is much nicer than I thought it would be (I will probably post pictures later) and the main room/kitchen has an open feel as well as lots of light.  The evening itself was mostly uneventful...until bed time struck.  The sheets that I brought were not large enough for my bed.  The definition of uncomfortable: sleeping on a sheet of plastic encasing your mattress.  The plastic sticks to your legs.  It isn't fun.  At all.  

My mind feels completely dead right now but I haven't done anything much today except walk around Union Square with Stephanie and meet up with Conrad after he was done with work (rhyming is cool, I swear).  

There is an ice cream truck outside and it is taking most of my will power to not run after it screaming like a child (which isn't necessarily out of the ordinary for me, but it's best if I avoid it in public, I think).  

Stephanie is shopping online and keeps turning the screen to me and just saying "pretty" whenever she discovers a new sweater or something.  Yes, yes it is pretty.  Congratulations.