A club means belonging

All is well in the Big Apple, at least with me. My Thursday started off roughly. I didn't hear my alarm go off because of the window A/C unit by my bed, so I was in quite a rush after waking up naturally. Compounding my rush was that I had parked my car on a street that undergoes sweeping on Thursday mornings, so I had to move it, which was a time-consuming ordeal. I ended up finding a spot a little too close to a fire hydrant for my taste, but fortunately when I returned in the evening, it was still there, without a ticket. I finally made a trip to an expensive grocery store across the street and had a delightful dinner.

Today's morning went much more according to plan. At work, I was given a rather large and open-ended project, which could turn into either a resounding success or catastrophic failure. I'm putting in an awful lot of thought, though, so I'm hoping for the former. After work I met up with my friend Rasanah, who has an internship this summer that splits her time between New York and New Haven. We dined at the Yale Club, which was tasty and had a charmingly old-fashioned decor, reminding me of the country club in which I spent much of my youth back in St. Louis. Then we met up with some classmates at 230 Fifth, a rooftop bar uncreatively located at 230 Fifth Ave. We then came back to Queens, had a bit of wine at the bar next door to my apartment, and here we are!

Tomorrow, weather permitting, Coney Island!