It’s been two weeks since I moved to NYC and so far my fabulous New York life has been a dud.

I thought I’d be living the high life, experiencing art and culture; but most of the time has been spent shopping for innocuous items like laundry detergent and socks. My new futon was finally delivered today (after the delivery men unloaded the first one at the wrong apartment building and then accidentally dropped it down an elevator shaft yesterday — don’t ask).

I’ve given up on the idea of having a hip, suave NYC bachelor pad — I’m too much of a cheapskate and at this point I’ll be happy just finding certain items for purchase, let alone attractive ones. Currently, I’m looking for an inexpensive, basic black TV cart on casters so I can wheel my TV/TiVo back and forth between my living room and bedroom.

As far as my job is concerned… it’s too early to tell. Managing this apartment building is going to be a significantly different experience than what I’ve done in the past — and I’ll probably be better for it even if it may not have been quite what I was looking for.

What’s not really surprising is how alone I feel. Like Sondheim wrote, NYC can be a city of strangers. There’s an unbelievable number of hot, impossibly cool guys of every stripe around, but I haven’t got the first clue how to go about meeting them. I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with Mike, but it would be nice to have a few friends in my neighborhood (unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like a whole lot of people live in the Wall St area).

All in all, I’m not sorry that I moved here. The alternative would have found me just as sad and alone in northern Wisconsin right now. At least here, I can get Thai food next door.

UPDATE: Okay, so maybe my life isn’t so dull after all. I’m wildly excited about seeing David Yazbek on Wednesday night at The Zipper. Word is he’s debuting songs from his upcoming album and his new musicial version of DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS.