On Searching, Home

On having abondoned you all for weeks and weeks, I will say this: Finding a New York apartment is a little tricky. It is requiring of very many questions and very many naps and very many wonderings about What Sort of New Yorker one might like to be. Like most things worth having, it takes searching time and bits of worry. In the end, though, I needn't have worried so much. I had forgotten that wands choose wizards and not the other way 'round. So it is with cornicing and milkmaids. There was searching and looking and looking some more, and there were plenty of opened cabinets and furrowed brows and heads shaken no and big long sighs on wet sidewalks. And then, one day, we were home.

Leaving neighborhoods is difficult, changing boroughs a little strange. No matter what one gains on the other side, rending, too, requires naps. I have loved Manhattan dearly. But I'm told that trees grow in Brooklyn. Grand, flowering ones. Judging by the state of my sinuses this week, they do indeed. We are happy to be home.