Daily Newsie

The day has finally arrived: I’m moving out of 11A. I figured I’d take a moment to savor my nutritious McDonald’s breakfast sammich and reflect on my two-and-a-half years in this place. It’s seen dinner parties on the living room floor, a three-week roommate who slept on the futon, visits from old friends, visits from new friends and a smattering of boyfriends that finally culminated with the one who’s sitting back-to-back with me now, tapping on his keyboard as I tap on mine. We’ve outgrown our little one-bedroom nest, and now it’s time to move into a bigger one with a dishwasher and a balcony. But I’ll miss 11A, my safe haven after the dissolution of my last cohabiting relationship. I moved in with my meager items and — helped along by friends — have turned these three rooms into a home.

So goodbye, 11A. If your walls could speak, I’d be in a whole lot of trouble.