Sometimes I think life is about finding the perfect.
That goes for spring sunrises, lazy afternoon reads, cappucinos, writing pens and yes even men, or I should say man. What got me to thinking about”the perfect” is that after three weeks of looking for a place to stay in New York City, we found one. It’s a studio apartment near Grand Central Station.
You wouldn’t believe how many “not so perfect” places we combed through. One rental outfit liked to inflate prices and warn us that 18 people (and it was always 18) wanted the same place and we had to act quickly and pay for the entire stay up front, another liked to “bait and switch” us, saying that the apartment we wanted wasn’t available but that another was (over and over again???). We’ve never encountered so many difficulties and smelly practices when we searched for accommodation on-line before . But in the end…perseverance paid off and we are booked.
Why is it so perfect? It’s beside a soup place (that will keep PJ, my wonderfully imperfect man, happy) and in the middle of everything (that makes me, the never perfect, happy). I’m soooo excited.
There’s something wonderful about finding the perfect. Of course it probably won’t be, PERFECT, but for the moment it is and that lightens my step.
Any thoughts on pursuing perfection in New York City?