On The Road Again
Well, by the end of this week, my office should be relocated from our stodgy yet totally convenient mid-town perch to new digs on the cusp of the Meat Packing District at the western edge of Chelsea.
I've spent the week trying to work and pack at the same time, realizing that pretty soon I'm just not going to be able to work for a day or two. We should be up and running, all deities willing, on Friday morning. I'll believe that when I sit down at my new desk with my cup of Balducci's coffee.
I've really enjoyed working on 43rd Street these past few years. We were in the building The New Yorker was published for the better part of the 20th Century, until Conde Nast strong-armed them up the block to their corporate death star.
The building is located central to just about every subway line, there's a newsstand, shoemaker, barber, copy shop, post office and restaurant on the ground floor. You can walk ten steps in any direction and practically fall into a typical NYC deli. The best part was that Tim works three doors away. Literally. Not that we had time for lunches or even many visits. We're both too career minded to do that. In fact, the few times I ran into him on the street bordered on shocking. I know. I'm weird. But it was nice knowing he was in the vicinity.
I have no idea what working in the new neighborhood will be like. God knows, I've spent enough years running around there at night, but I don't have a clue where one gets a tunafish sandwich. Man cannot live on Spice Market alone. Last Fall, Tim and I took a walk around the building, which looms over Chelsea like some old battleship. I quickly discovered that one could have a meatloaf blueplate special with a drag queen, but it doesn't look promising for more pedestrian fare.
If I survive the move, I'll be up and running again on Friday...fingers crossed.