After one year living in the West Village, indisputably the most charming neighborhood in Manhattan, I am packing my bags--and furniture and books and tableware and GIANT bulletin board that I never even USED this year, and boxes and random appliances and a ton of other stuff that I can’t even go through right now because the thought is too overwhelming--and moving out of my apartment.
It’s a bittersweet thing, moving. As someone who has done it nine times in the past ten years, I know, so you can trust me. It’s kuh-wite a hassle, and it all happens so quickly that you have no time to process it because you’re too busy delving through mounds of clothes you bought on sale at Zara and have never worn and packing them into boxes and trying to get out of the apartment as fast as possible because the new tenants who have agreed to pay the $300-a-month extra that the landlord is asking for to live in a 200-square-foot apartment are moving in tomorrow.
But this time, I know I’m sad to move because of the token parts of the Village that I know I won’t find anywhere else.
I’ll miss the cozy feeling I get every time I remind the girl at Jack’s Stir Brew my name even though I’ve been there every single morning for the past year.
I’ll miss running across the street to Bigelow to buy a last-minute birthday gift every time I forgot it was someone’s birthday, which was more or less every time. (Sorry, everyone, though I guess you’re welcome, everyone).
I’ll miss Raz, the clerk at the corner deli who, as I was paying one night, asked, “What, no ice cream tonight, MJ?” No, Raz, not tonight. Though I appreciate you noticing my nightly routine and unfortunate dietary choices.
But most of all, I’ll miss this:
This miracle hair-curling wand belongs to my roommate, Ruby (who, incidentally, is currently having an hour-long one-sided conversation about whether or not she should go for a run), but in the year that we have co-inhabited this apartment, I have treated it as my very own.
As I’ve mentioned, I have very curly hair, which I used to straighten every day. The “used to” is imperative, as lately I have been lazy and tired and resorted to collapsing on my bed at night with wet hair and waking up to a wildebeest living on my head.
Rather than taking an hour to tame the beast, I use the Whirl to shape the frizz into smooth, round curls in record time.
Separating my hair into sections, I wrap each around the wand for about 10 seconds. In just 10 minutes, the curls are perfectly coiled; five minutes, they’re loose, messy waves. Have you tried it? This thing’s amazing.
But alas, I will be bidding adieu to the Whirl as Ruby packs it up and takes it with her to her future home, and I will return to my old ways of ironing the beast straight. Or just purchasing the Whirl for myself.
Or--DARE I?!--unleash the beast once and for all, and let her roam free.
Let's put it to a vote? What do you think I should do?