The weather right now totally fits right now: cold rain and sleet, wind, darkened city sky. I have spent the greater part of this afternoon either staring at this computer or staring at the ceiling. My nap dreams have been about children caught under falling beds, some of them on purpose. I have been surrounded by death on all sides, lately. Either in the news or the city or personally. Why is it that some people so want death to come that they bring it upon themselves and others, while others are struggling against the same thing desired by the former? It's a question that isn't really a question. It's more a fact.

One thing trivial but good I did was go to see Ira Glass, of NPR's This American Life. He and two others were presenting a workshop on making radio stories. It was very good. Though there was this woman who kept messing with her hair over and over, fidgeting every, seriously, every two minutes sitting in front of me. It was distracting.

I also saw Moby at B&N yesterday. He was signing copies of his latest CD. He looked snobby and self-pleased.

Tomorrow I'll hand over a large sum of money to live in a small--good, but small--apartment. While friends have bought houses with yards, Tom and I will merely be renters of a little island in the island of Harlem in the island of Manhattan. We were on the lookout today for various furniture items, and Tom was happily wandering the restaurant supply stores for kitchenware. We ate Vietnamese food at this cool little place down in Chinatown, which reminded me of why I love New York so much. We have scouted out the store where we want to buy a futon and maybe a desk if we can find space. We went to this place yesterday called Containers Central or something like that, and it was amazing, this place that only sold shelves and boxes and stuff Manhattanites need to live in their little huts.

Well. It's official. Tom and I have rented an apartment up in Harlem. We signed the papers today. I vary in emotion from happy to have a little place of our own, to sad that we're leaving Menno House. I just woke up from a nap a few moments ago, and I heard one of my housemates, Brian, trying to decide what clothes to wear at the theatre with Kate, another housemate who's in fashion school. And I realized this would all go on without me. It's sappy, I know.

I have been craigslist futon shopping, so you know who can come and visit. I already got a reply from one of my ads. The futon looks pretty decent in the photo. It's in Chelsea, though, so I'm not quite sure how we'll get it to Menno House without a vehicle.

(They're renovating the apartment now. We won't be able to get in for a couple weeks.)

I figure we could use it for a bed till we actually get a bed of our own.