Ah, man. Walking down city streets lined with Christmas trees for sale makes me want a real home. Iím craving a cozy space that smells like pine needles and glows with blinking white lights. A home where I can hang stockings over a fireplace and watch ďItís a Wonderful LifeĒ and bake cut-out cookies with green frosting and red sprinkles like my mom used to do when I was a kid.
Instead, Iím hopping on the subway to go to my chilly Brooklyn apartment where the cable isnít working so I canít even watch Christmas movies. But I have to look on the bright side: At least I have a home (I did live out of a backpack for an entire year)!