The past few months have been, no doubt, the busiest months I have had in the past two years in the city. After the marathon at the end of May, things were unraveling so quickly that I barely had time to catch a breath, let alone blogging. As a result, nothing has been written in a long while. But now that the sun has found its way back over the green foliage outside 70th street, and summer has made it bright albeit late appearance over the city, life has finally mellowed down. This morning, after a round of egg benedicts topped with salmon for breakfast, while waiting for a loaf of banana bread to brown in the oven, I suddenly found myself out of inspiration for the law school essays. What better to do, then, than blogging.

After a near frantic experience in February, I took Mug's advice - the best yet - to sit in the Feb LSAT anyway and cancel the score, for the sake of a practice run. I reluctantly complied, though the thought of wasting $130 did not sit well with my third-world upbringing, especially on such a luxury, unnecessary concept as "a practice run." But in hindsight, that was probably the best decision I have made. When June rolled around, I was ten-fold more prepared, logic-wise and pressure-wise.

The three weeks period of waiting for the score went by extremely quickly, mostly because it was packing time. Right before heading to Canada for the marathon, Mugg and I found the perfect apartment for our first attempt of cohabitation. Located on the second floor landing of a townhouse, the one-bedroom was two studios combined into one, featuring two bathrooms, two lofts, two doors and big bright windows looking out to the three-lined 70th street. Best yet, it is half a block to Central Park, half a block to the B and C train which drops us right at the door of NERA, and two blocks to the 1, 2, 3. The rent was well within our budget, so we were willing to sacrifice the fact that the kitchen was teeny, no dog allowed and no laundry in the building. I guess when it comes to housing in New York, you really can't have it all.

The packing process was, at best, a pain. At worst, it cost us some heated arguments over what constituted as "functional" furniture (he: a table that works) and what is just plain ugly (me: a table that wobbles, has uneven legs and stained surface). We eventually made peace and compromised - the god-awful table had to go, but Mugg can keep three out of his four red, identical t-shirts. I mean it, identical!

Thanks to kind friends who came to help (Yuko, Luan, Binit, Denis), the moving was much less of a nightmare than I had dreaded. We picked up my stuffs first from Stuyvesant Oval, which only took up a third of the 10x10 UHaul, filled it up with half of Mugg's suitcases, went to pick up a coffee table, then unloaded the truck in front of the new nest. When Luan, Yuko and I moved the first load inside, Mugg drove Binit and Denis back to his apartment to pick up the more bulky items, i.e. bed, mattress, couch, two glass-top desks. We started out at 9am and were done moving furniture by 3pm, at which point Yuko and I carried our broomsticks around the city to clean up the apartments we had left behind. It was a bit emotional. I was excited for the next step of my relationship, but sad to leave my housemate of two years. We of course made a promise to run together every week, and hang out as much as we can.

After a whole week of unpacking, organizing and cleaning, I have finally figured a way to make my tiny kitchen functional. The secret is rather simple - clean as you go. The magic organizing tool - sticky hooks which line neatly under my cabinet and along the wall, holding everything from the utensil rack to my slotted spoon. I even bought a kitchen cart with extra counter top, which has been unnecessary yet.

On a peaceful Saturday - fourth of July - I finally made my way to the park, promptly took off my shoes and stretched out in Sheep's Meadow. The sun was bright, birds were chirping and the moving machines of Manhattan were spotted napping under shades, playing frisbees, making out on the green grass. The extra oxygen of the west side seems to make us human less antsy and more dreamy. I will never cease to miss the holes-in-the-wall of East Village, but now that I experience this, I wouldn't trade this neighborhood for anywhere.

As for the LSAT, I got the score that I want, the fruit of 6-month labor and two boxes of practice tests which were promptly given away. Life is falling neatly into places. And of course the road ahead is winding, but I know that it is the best road I yet to walk on - because Muggy is here, looking down at me when I wake up, turning off the light when I go to sleep. And calling out to me from the living room, where he has firmly planted a refuge on the couch, "Honey, is the banana bread ready yet??"