It's been three months in my new apartment and I am feeling great warm waves of fuzziness about my new building and neighborhood because, get this, when I walked out of my building this morning there was an adorable little pumpkin on the step grinning at me with a leftover votive in its tummy. Don't you see? No one had smashed it or peed in it or stolen it or otherwise damaged it, as would have been the case in my old place. That little pumpkin wouldn't have lasted two minutes in the old 'hood.
I also feel compelled to point out that my Sunday New York Times has not been stolen ONCE.
I love this place!