My body is back from NY but my mind is still there. I had such an amazing time, but I slept very little and got in very late, and now I have scrambled egg brain. I’ll be back later to regale you with tales of my exploits, but for now I just want to make sure that you’ve seen this:
Reader Corinna emailed to inform me that I was vacationing scant miles away from greatness. I really thought about hopping on the subway, showing up at Jessica’s insane Brooklyn home, and demanding a tour, but sanity prevailed when I considered how I might feel if some random stalker freak popped up unannounced at my door… I’d pretty much just call the police.
Or stab the intruder with my amazing brutalist lamps.
Or perhaps I’d drown them in my incredible bathtub.
Or maybe just bludgeon them with my stunning onyx coffee table.
Perhaps my little trope is wearing thin, but I think you’ll agree that I should have risked death to tour this place.
Next time, Jessica. Next time. I suggest you lock down the lucite record player before I come, though.