Semblances of order

The last few days have been, in many ways, very relaxing: I have spent large chunks of time lying in the grass on the Fordham campus, reveling in the clarity of the sun and sky,* cooking my first meals in my apartment,¹ and eating Italian pastries with Jess.²  Following the terrible storms (which I secretly love) following my arrival in New York, the Bronx looks like this:

The apartment remains in an interim state.  I finally tidied it up enough that it no longer looks like I'm squatting here, and managed to order several pieces of furniture from Ikea.  They will, of course, be delivered at the whim of whoever is in charge of these things, but they tell me to expect to no longer live like an itinerant starting September 10.

To help further the process of feeling like I like in a home and not a storage facility, I got up early and took the bus to my local Target for a chair and some cleaning supplies.  

Waiting for the bus. 8 a.m.

This task, though it involved walking with large bags and feeling like a pack mule, was infinitely more successful than either foray to Ikea, and now my apartment has a stool and clean floors. I could, theoretically, walk around barefoot, though I have not yet done so.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is progress.

Notes:

* For all my deep and intense love of Portland, it operates on a greyscale 8 months of the year. As a result, I perpetually marvel at the sun, wherever I find it.

¹ And cooking with gas for the first time in years, which is stupendous.  Let it never be said that I don't appreciate the little things.

² Who brought me my very first housewarming gifts: a plant, which I will almost certainly kill, and a can of Raid!