James and I went on a date. To Ruby's, which is Australian, and has, hands down, the best burger in the city. It's also a little hidden, on Mulberry Street, which makes me feel inside.
You can't tell, but the painting behind of James depicts cows. I don't think he noticed them behind him, which is the way with cows. Otherwise, he would have been terrified.
We have, by no prior arrangement, been spending this last Brooklyn week in a spectacularly ordinary fashion. I go running in the morning, we eat at home, see friends occasionally. We have a few final meals and museums and races planned, but, we are wrapping up our time at a slow, easy pace. Slow enough that it doesn't feel like wrapping up. It just feels like . . . like a see you later.
James is going to Boston two weeks before me, and will stay in a 3 bedroom apartment, which is not ours, while he is there. When he told me this, I was like, oh, great, so we can get used to the lap of 3 bedroom luxury, just before we are thrown back into the cold reality 1 bedroom/1 drawer kind of living.
Hey, all you with 3 bedrooms, what's it like? How should I prepare? I don't own any long strands of pearls or full-length fur coats. Should I get some? How about a driver? Advice, please.