Day 27, Be Brave Project; Past Perfect Syndrome

To a person afflicted with a particular turn of mind, nothing--nothing--on this planet is quite as attractive as something you're about to lose. Ever. And the things you have lost? Absolutely devastating in their attractiveness. I'm sure the Germans have a word for this emotional state (if they don't, no one will), but I will simply refer to it as "Past Perfect Syndrome".

PPS has happened to me time and again with boyfriends, of course. The way he chews and those flannel shorts he wears--the approximate color and shape of wilted lettuce--turn from being disgusting indicators of future mental cruelty to being endearing hallmarks of quirkiness. A tendency to talk incessantly while viewing dvds is less an incitement to decapitation than a rather sweet boyish yen for conversation.

This is obviously an unfortunate character trait, one which has caused me very real unhappiness over the years. I no longer believe it to be sweetly melancholy, or sign of an artistic temperament: I think PPS is an indulgent and unnecessary pain in the ass.

And now I'm a New Yorker. So I am suffering from PPS in regards to my apartment.

Which has never, ever looked so good to me.

Never mind that when I moved in, my aunt and brother were close to speechless over the state of the place. That I put in hour after hour of scrubbing and thought into this weirdly designed apartment, which has a large kitchen but few counters, a bathtub that occasionally likes to burp tan bark up the drain, really weird rectangular moldings on the walls, and two long picture windows that alert the neighbors to my shamefully indulgent tv habits. Now all is beauty and delight to me; honey colored wooden floors and oh, look there! That's where Gigi Colette hid on her first day here with me. Directly next to it is the spot where she first vomited. That's the mirror I put up the first night I had cable and was watching one of those Jack Nicholson films with exchangeable titles (As Good As It Gets or As Low As It Goes or Something's Gotta Give).

What a night that was! I think I ate pasta.

Everywhere I look this place is filled with charm, from the deeply overstuffed bookshelves to the tarnishing silver, from the coffee table that attacks my shins to that damned kitchen carpet that just won't stay clean.

It's not too tough to figure out why I feel like a business man who's having breakfast with his lovely wife, knowing he's going to schtup another woman during lunch hour. Today, at 1.45, I am going to view the UWS Duplex apartment. And from what I hear, she's built. . .

Be Brave Project Yesterday: FINALLY finished the essay, and think it's quite good. A lot of excess trimmed and a much less overwrought ending to it. Also found myself a General Practitioner near Columbus Circle, and sent the form in to Oxford. Also sent form in to Smith Barney about being a little more moderate with investment goals. Rec'd credit card application at low percentage rate, but am going to hold off applying until I see if anything better comes down the pike or I get a sudden brave-wave of financial acumen. But I'm going to get one more card before 2008 is over; lower my utilization rate and diversify.

Now I have to get dressed for my duplexitous lunchtime activities. Ooh I can't wait to see the place but equally Oof! I don't want to lose this one.