Alone in the Office

No one is here today but me. Seriously. Two people out at a funeral, a sick call-in and a dental appointment, and I have a SoHo loft space to myself for the day. It's kind of crazy, when you think about it. So most of the day I've been mentaly imagining what I would do with all this space, if I lived here instead of the one-room place I have in the West Village. The problem with lofts is that however big they are (and this one is probably close to 1500 sq feet), a lot of that space has little to no window access. Seriously there are four windows in this whole place, and on top of being an office, it's also a three bedroom apartment with two baths and one of those tubs that might be confused for a wading pool. So how do New Yorkers deal with the light issues in spaces like this that aren't commercial?

How do they deal with lighting in general? It's dark here by 4:30 and pitch by 6 and it's not even December yet. I've lately been feeling the affects of SAD. Naturally I am predisposed (like my mother) to be a little moodier when there's less light, but instead of electing to move somewhere like Honolulu, I elected to move to a Northeastern city where people are already bundled up outside and children are covered with plastic when in their strollers. Though, in theory, I could have made a worse choice, like Seattle and then commited suicide in a very dramatic manner, or started a rekindling of grunge.

So the past couple of weeks i've been working on solutions. One is to work insanely hard to keep excercising. Not only is this good for my butt (which I'm afraid is starting to suffer Office Chair Syndrome) but it's also been shown to help with depression. Then I'm eating as many fruits and veggies as I can shove down my throat. I'm not sure what good they'll do but apples always make you feel good, and according to my grandmother, also keep the doctor away. Handy seeing that I still don't have real health insurance and therefore am at the mercy of 10 million people + tourists' germs as well as taxicabs, which pose a potential death threat on any given day. God help the day I don't pay attention to the light and end up in St. Vincent's. And I'm also considering a sun lamp, one of those things that emit a large amount of light and are commonly used with Old people and in Finland. Random, I'm sure. But if twenty minutes under that thing daily can make me believe I'm secretly in Fiji, then I figure it'll be worth the investment. Beyond that, I have no clue what to do. Watch "Cool Runnings" and "Shag" while laying on a beach towel? Start doing yoga first thing in the morning facing east? Completely redo my apartment in a feng-shui layout to get out all the bad chi? I've dealt with this problem before but have to admit this is the first time I've ever been afraid of facing the winter season. Even the coats I've been looking at have only made me more aware that I'm living in a location where it's not uncommon for windchill to be -20 or worse. Now that's insanity.

So I wait, curled under a Carolina fleece I picked up on a whim my senior year, when I suddenly became convinced that I would never see as much blue and white again. It's true, I don't see that much blue and white, but when I do it's always a welcome diversion and a reminder of great times at UNC. Never thought I'd say that either. Last year at this time I rolled my eyes at the people who said this was the best time of my life and couldn't wait to grab my diploma and make a run for it. Now I sometimes actually DREAM about Tom's cooking at the ADPi house and spending whole afternoons reading on the deck of my HOUSE. That's right, before the room I actually lived in a whole, albeit small, house. Those days seem like a dream.

Do I love living in New York? Absolutely. I swear there isn't a better place to be young and "fabulous". But there maybe is a better place to be poor. And a better place to deal with harsh winters. Like hibernating in a cave with bears. Even though I must admit that my former boss (a lawyer) pointed out to me once that the reason my face tended to get so red in the summer was that I had Nordic, therefore, Artic skin, that was used to several feet of snow and cold all the time. And I keep thinking about my grandma, who was born in Sweden and raised in Vermont. So how did I end up with such a poor constitution, and will I ever adapt? Everyone keeps saying you get used to it, you get used to it, the same way you get used to hot, humid summers. I guess we'll have to wait and see if I become a snow-bunny or if I end up huddled in front of the gas stove.