I got home too late to do a full blog entry, so this is all you get today.
After living three months in a posh place on the Upper East Side -- the kind of place where little old ladies have puffy white hair and even puffier little white dogs -- I lived here for two months before heading off to New Haven for our three-week federal trial.
My firm transferred me, so I would be closer to our Midtown office as trial prep got more intense. I worked around the clock and would often stumble home at 3 a.m. or even later. Sometimes my doorman said, "Good morning" to me twice in the span of just a few hours.
All the while, across the street was one of the best seafood restaurants in the world. I saw it every single day. In the morning when I went to work. In the wee hours of the morning when I came home from work.
And I never once ate there.
But we finally remedied this...five years later.
Next post. Promise.