A Sheldon can do your income taxes, if you need a root canal, Sheldon's your man... but humpin' and pumpin' is not Sheldon's strong suit.

I am boring.

Let me rephrase: My life -- daily life -- is boring.


And this is actually a good thing because it means (drum roll) that I have successfully moved back to New York without feeling the need to Van Gogh my ear.


I'll elaborate: The most awesome thing about my time in Amsterdam was the routine. And my sweet apartment. Now, given that 1/2 that routine is illegal in the U.S., I was a bit underwhelmed at the prospect of re-adapting to This American Life (read: getting my shi*t together), especially in the city that ate small pieces of my soul for two years.


Strangely, I am now a law-abiding citizen (though I still wouldn't make the cut at The Company) and even more strangely, I like it. I'm high on life (most of the time). I have a similarly sweet apartment in Brooklyn -- a two-bedroom bungalow on the BQE -- and live far enough away people who look like this or this, my two biggest fears of living in the boro (can you imagine being pregnant and trying to dress like that? Oh wait, hipsters don't try to do anything. It's all accidental. And ironic. Trying isn't ironic. Does that mean an accidental pregnancy is ironic? All you people out there studying for the LSATS, solve that logic problem for me). Sadly, I have no washer or dryer, but the woman on the corner is really good at folding my t-shirts in perfect golden rectangles.


Cobble Hill: 1 Murray Hill: -5 (Amsterdam is still +6, but it's not a fair comparison...yet...)