God, it's so nice in New York. It's all New Yorkers can talk about. And we're not even bored of talking about it yet; we're still so surprised by our good fortune. On Sunday, I bought the most expensive pair of jeans I've ever bought in my life and then experienced intense remorse, and had to ask Sarah if it was okay that I spent that much money and she said yes, because finding good jeans is like finding a unicorn, and then I said I would write a book called A Good Unicorn Is Hard to Find. Then I read an entire issue of Vogue and took a nap and watched Desperate Housewives and accidentally cut a chunk out of my finger with a kitchen knife and then walked the dog and fell asleep again.
Today I'm crossing my fingers for a swine flu evacuation so I can go find a good tree to lie under. And I'm definitely not going to class tonight. I've been joking for three weeks that I'm going to skip the class where we talk about Blasted because I didn't think I had the stomach to read it, and then I stopped joking and realized I don't have the stomach to read it, and didn't.