Shit Happens

This is the mostly true story of the day the shit came crashing down on me, one bright, sunny Friday morning in June of 2005. I woke early and snuck out of my apartment, half-heartedly trying not to wake my slumbering boyfriend or his friends who were visiting for the weekend. (As any transplanted New Yorker will confirm, a move to the city means becoming reacquainted with long-lost family and friends, eager for a place to sleep while they visit the city.) Despite my poorly attempted quietude, I left my guests relatively undisturbed and sprinted to the gym to start Read more