I am all packed. Just passing time while I finish the last load of laundry in my old apartment building in Harlem before I move into my new apartment in Hell's Kitchen. In about an hour, I will pick up my keys to a vacant Midtown residence that I will soon be calling home.
Mayra came by my office yesterday to help me carry recycled, flattened boxes from our mailroom. We ordered my last delivery from our favorite Mexican restaurant Picante and she helped me pack and tape boxes until almost midnight.
Earlier yesterday evening, she stood outside of my white cubicle and peered into the glass office behind me, where my boss sat in her ergonomic chair looking out at an unobstructed view of the Empire State Building while hosting a conference call.
"Boy," Mayra said. "Your office is so 13 Going on 30."
And I'm almost there.