A Cathartic Cry

I had bright hopes for yesterday. We were going to be tourists, hire bikes and cycle around Battery Park and up the West side.

Unfortunately, today was the five boros bike ride, which meant that Bike and Roll the only bike company at Battery Park closed early and wouldn't let us hire bikes. We were stumped. We ended up doing a walk in the LP, which was pretty interesting and going to Shanghainese dim sum. The Boy and I would give it a 3.5 out of five. fair, but not amazing. We ate crab and pork sui long bao, which were ok. Then we we bought a 32 inch telly and a load of groceries and carried the lot home from Union Square. We got some funny looks, which was to be expected.

My beef with laundry continued. We found an unclaimed laundry card and 'borrowed' it to do our laundry. (We did tell the doorman, who looked at us as if to say, 'So what? What do you want me to do about it.') It took us about three hours to do it and $17.50. No wonder people send their pants out to be washed.

We had brunch with team momentum today and then walked along the High Line and went to Chelsea Market. This was decidedly underwhelming, though I did eat some lush oysters. Before leaving the apartment, the roller blind decided to play up and now refuses to roll back. We've had it two weeks.

Tonight I properly flipped out. I wailed. Again. It was all supposed to be done by May 1st. We were supposed to be having fun and enjoying ourselves every day. Not living without curtains, broken blinds, with my smalls still in a suitcase as our chest of drawers lies decidedly flat-packed in our bedroom. I am fed up with going to Bed, Bath and Beyond, visiting the IKEA website, going to CB2 - they have a discount on blue items at the moment, which we missed out on - going to deepest darkest Queens to pick up secondhand airconditioning units, agonising over $2.99 plastic shower curtain hooks versus the $4.99 flimsy metal ones or the nice $7.99 ones.

May 1st was supposed to be the point when we'd be on the way to being settled. The end of six months of stress. We'd be living a wicked new life, learning something new every day. We're nearly there, we really are. But we have also been saying that for the last 2.5 months. I'm tired, but less tired than before my massive cry. And the Boy is online looking at bedside lamps, so that's one thing I don't have to do.

I have some photos of the good times: the good food, the friends we're starting to make, the glow-in-the-dark drinks from the Tiki night the other day, the beautiful sunshine, the vivid, bright coloured tulips from Madison Square Park, but Terry the Tablet won't let me upload them.

I am tired. Tomorrow I'll be ok again.