I love New York. I love living here. It's not just that I love living in an urban environment and feeling like I am somewhere even if I am nowhere, but, as I've already said, I love the energy of my city, the quirkiness, even the dust and noise (well, not as much as the other stuff...)
However, sometimes I cheat on New York - and, not just when I get on a plane and go to some far off place. Sometimes we get in the car and drives two hours to the beach on the east end of Long Island - Southampton, Bridgehampton, East Hampton, Montauk - The End, and every where in between. I love the Hamptons. I love the winter, the spring, the summer and the fall. I love the total laziness and relaxation that takes over my body and that I never quite feel when I'm home in the Manhattan, even on a Sunday when the entire city seems to have either taken a tranquilizer or overdosed on eggs benedict and bloody marys. I like cooking dinner in a kitchen that fits more than one person and a garbage pail at a time. I like having our meals at a kitchen table that isn't also a desk and general storage space for books, keys, mail, pocketbooks, receipts, wallets, newspapers, change, magazines, batteries, chargers, ipods, blackberries, take out menus and whatever other random crap doesn't quite fit anywhere else. I love the fresh air and the smell of fresh cut grass. I love hearing the wind in the leaves and sleeping with the window open. I like hearing "house noises" like creaking wood and central air or branches on window screens.
This is a very different home away from home.
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