In the midst of a very busy work and social schedule lately, not to mention my almost pathological fascination with the presidential campaign, I, like a neglectful spouse, forgot to note a very special anniversary. October 1 marked the fourth anniversary of my landing in New York to make a fresh start from the very stale life I left behind in Georgia (nothing against GA, but it really had nothing more to offer me). In that time, I’ve lived in three apartments, gained one partner and a few dozen new friends, misplaced an inch of my cat’s tail, held two real jobs and spent the better part of a year as a free agent, accumulated far too many books, eaten at numerous fine restaurants, and had more “only in New York” moments than I can count. As luck would have it, considering I forgot the significance of the date, I did spend the evening of October 1 in a celebratory fashion, enjoying a nice dinner and evening at the opera (Don Giovanni, surprisingly bawdy) with some good friends. So hooray for me for landing in the right place at the right time.

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