I still check the housing message board for the NYC singles wards from time to time. I don't know why... probably for the same reason I was looking at apartments on Craigslist for a year before I moved out here: I just like to see what's out there, for funsies. Anyway, the other day there was a post from a girl seeking an opening. Her maximum rent range was, I kid you not, "$300-$500." I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. And then I laughed some more. Perhaps I should offer to rent her my closet.
Last night I made my mom's lasagna recipe for what I think was the first time ever (I mean, I've helped her make it a thousand times, but I never bothered to cook it for just myself in college - I hadn't yet discovered the glory of leftovers). It turned out great, and I have decided that my mom's lasagna is like the Holy Grail of comfort foods - it's simple but delicious, and it reminds me of home more than probably any other meal (probably because we always request it when we come home to visit). I ate a large helping whilst watching America's Next Top Model (shut up) and it made for an excellent night.
I'm going to my first book club meeting tonight (yeah that's right, how grown up am I?). The book this month was The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. It was written by the former editor of French Elle after a stroke left him with "locked-in syndrome," which basically means that he couldn't do anything but blink his left eye, and sometimes move his head back and forth. Sounds awful, I know, but it was really good and I recommend it. It's a quick read, too - it only took me about three hours (i.e. a few days' worth of commutes) to finish, and I'm a fairly slow reader, so there you go. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to discuss it in an extremely intelligent manner with some of my peers.