My Time in Queens, Calculated

I thought I would need about four months after moving to Astoria to get my life together, find a job, and move back into my own place - either elsewhere in New York City, or elsewhere in the world.

Turns out I needed an extra month.

Here's how my life in my third borough breaks down since August:

• 5 months
• 1 roommate 
• 1 bottle Moroccan rose wine
• 1 broken wine glass
• 1 teacup
• 3 plates
• 3 bowls
• 1 pot
• 1 flood
• 1 set of lost keys, 1 Good Samaritan, 1 fire escape and 1 living room window climb
• 1 bellydancer costume, thrice worn
• 5 trips to LA
• 1 canoe 
• 2 tours
• numerous pickle martinis and picklebacks at Sweet Afton
• 2 packages of pita
• 19 new Facebook friends
• 1 computer crash
• 6 loads of laundry
• 10 brunches
• 3 bagels
• 1 peanut butter hot chocolate
• 1 visit to the taco truck, 2 tacos
• the endless clanging of heat pipes

I really loved my time in Astoria. I'll miss it here. But now that I'm sleeping on an air mattress with no sheets, on pillows with no cases, in an apartment that never stops smelling of my roommate's near-empty beer bottles and smoke of various substances, I'm ready to go.

There are still tons of bars and restaurants I never got to visit, drinks and meals I never got to have, faces I never got to kiss, and bridges I never got to cross. But it was impossible to do everything in five months.

I feel satisfied that I did a lot.

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