Three perfect days in New York

Followed by: why Paris Fashion Week has never been more lame, My Bridgerton obsession, and more.

In case you live under a rock (not chronically online, not living in the micro-ecosystem that is the NYC-based Instagram community, someone with actual things to do), I’m here to let you know that the last three days in New York City have been spectacular.

My therapist and I decided that this Daylight Savings felt more intense than others past because it came with a physical change. With the loss of an hour came sunshine, warm weather, and a new lust for life. I was able to walk over the Williamsburg Bridge home from work for the first time since early October. The Lower East Side looked like a Friday night in July at 6 pm this past Monday. Restaurants and bars wasted zero time getting their Parisian-style outdoor tables back on the pavement. I didn’t wear a jacket. Life was GOOD.

By Tuesday, all of the snow had melted. I realized this on my lunch break, when I ignored the turkey chili I had brought from home because who could eat turkey chili when it’s 70 degrees and sunny after months of freezing darkness, and opted for an expensive sandwich and an iced tea. I forgot what it was like to be cold. Just like that.