I’ve got to New York! And set myself up in the flat I’ll be staying in. It’s better than I thought it’d be. Nice balcony, purple walls, wooden floor. All the essentials.
It’s weird to think I’m not gonna be cleaning up after my kids for the next six months or so. If I was back home right now I’d probably be hoovering the house, or cleaning up cat crap. I could always ask Monica. She’s a dab hand at hoovering. Even going so far as hoovering her own hoover.
That’s not a euphemism. Though if it was, I may be hoovering my own hoover while I’m out here. My Friends™ have been asking each other the pressing question:
“Would you rather give up food or sex?”
By coming to NYC, I’ve given up the second by default. Ah well. At least the food in the city is amazing!
“The One Where I Give Up Sex”
As I walk through the city, passing through the shadows of skyscrapers, and trying not to step on the food waste people habitually throw on the sidewalk, I see Rachel and Phoebe. Or at least two people who look a lot like them.
That reminds me, recently they both thought they’d caught Chandler having an affair. But he was actually house hunting! And sneakily smoking on the job… Hrrm maybe I should take that up again? Now I’m a bona fide New York writer.
They didn’t hesitate in grassing him up to Monica. On very little evidence. Not wanting to let the cat out the bag, Monica uses it to canvas opinions on the house. Was it nice? Would it be a good place to live? It’s sad that Mondler are doing what so many of my other friends have done. Moving to a big house (a very big house) in the country.
Monica describes her dream house and one of the Friends™ exclaims “You wanna buy a house in the fifties!”
Mate. I wanna buy one in the noughties. When you could actually afford one.
Maybe it’s being alone in a different city. But my thoughts turn to memories of my past. Or not MY past. Things I’ve seen that are familiar to this new setting.
I remember Rachel first arriving in Monica’s flat. Anxiously justifying her decision to leave to her dad on the phone. “It’s like my whole life, people have been saying “you’re a shoe! You’re a shoe!” Well what if I don’t want to be a shoe? What if I want to be something else??”
It’s a sentiment that resonates heavily right now. As I grapple with my own future, and the life I’ve built for myself up to this point. It’s one thing having those thoughts when you’re 25. But 35? It’s a much bigger shoe!
I remember the time Chandler and Joey won the quiz about how well they all knew each other; and (temporarily) moved into Monica’s flat. On a recent holiday, without the luxury of Netflix™, my wife and I turned to one such quiz. Those couples ones you get on the phone. It was a little upsetting to find I knew her far better than she knew me.
Am I even the same shoe other people think I am?
I remember Joey getting his head stuck in the turkey. Oh my god. Am I STUCK… IN A SHOE?
Chandler snaps me out of it.
The offer’s been rejected. Boy, do I not miss house hunting! All that stress. It’s crazy to think it’s now three years since we last had to go through it all.
Although it was worth it. I was saying before I left: One of the things I love about our current house is it’s only got good memories. There’s none of the baggage of the first, where we spent the pandemic.
Maybe I should be happy for Chandler and Monica? Moving on to a new stage of their life.
It may be quicker than I thought! Turns out Chandler was faking the rejection, as he didn’t want everyone else ruining the moment for Monica.
Now he mentions it. They were all being super selfish! Trampling on Monica’s excitement. Wait a minute… I hope I didn’t do that with all my whinging about my other friends moving.
I can understand why everyone would be sad about Chandler and Monica moving away. Ten years is a long time to live in the same place! With the same people. And Monica was there for even longer!
I think that’s part of the pain I feel from my friends being spread out. A huge number of us lived together over the years. With one house being the centre of it all for four years. I still dream of it occasionally, and it regularly comes up whenever we catch up.
It’s interesting that some of the most memorable events over the last ten years happened in Monica’s flat. And, on the face of it, all those memories are quite small and inconsequential really. But doesn’t that capture it?
When you’re gone, it's all the little things you miss.
Real Live Sitcom Moment:
Shortly after the above I rang my wife to catch up. And she shared a story from Granny’s house:
My son had a bit of bottom trouble. To be frank, he shat himself.
He still needed to go, so Granny got the pants off and put him on the toilet. But my sister wanted to help, so she attempted to pick up the dirty pants, only for Granny to insist that she deal with them.
Granny made a move to grab them. But forgot that she was also holding the boy on the toilet. So he fell forward and, somehow, his pooey bum squeaked down the front of the toilet. Painting a part of the porcelain that usually remains clean.
Hrrm. Maybe, after all, being out here isn’t so bad.
It’s weird to think I’m not gonna be cleaning up after my kids for the next six months or so. If I was back home right now I’d probably be hoovering the house, or cleaning up cat crap. I could always ask Monica. She’s a dab hand at hoovering. Even going so far as hoovering her own hoover.
That’s not a euphemism. Though if it was, I may be hoovering my own hoover while I’m out here. My Friends™ have been asking each other the pressing question:
“Would you rather give up food or sex?”
By coming to NYC, I’ve given up the second by default. Ah well. At least the food in the city is amazing!
“The One Where I Give Up Sex”
As I walk through the city, passing through the shadows of skyscrapers, and trying not to step on the food waste people habitually throw on the sidewalk, I see Rachel and Phoebe. Or at least two people who look a lot like them.
That reminds me, recently they both thought they’d caught Chandler having an affair. But he was actually house hunting! And sneakily smoking on the job… Hrrm maybe I should take that up again? Now I’m a bona fide New York writer.
They didn’t hesitate in grassing him up to Monica. On very little evidence. Not wanting to let the cat out the bag, Monica uses it to canvas opinions on the house. Was it nice? Would it be a good place to live? It’s sad that Mondler are doing what so many of my other friends have done. Moving to a big house (a very big house) in the country.
Monica describes her dream house and one of the Friends™ exclaims “You wanna buy a house in the fifties!”
Mate. I wanna buy one in the noughties. When you could actually afford one.
Maybe it’s being alone in a different city. But my thoughts turn to memories of my past. Or not MY past. Things I’ve seen that are familiar to this new setting.
I remember Rachel first arriving in Monica’s flat. Anxiously justifying her decision to leave to her dad on the phone. “It’s like my whole life, people have been saying “you’re a shoe! You’re a shoe!” Well what if I don’t want to be a shoe? What if I want to be something else??”
It’s a sentiment that resonates heavily right now. As I grapple with my own future, and the life I’ve built for myself up to this point. It’s one thing having those thoughts when you’re 25. But 35? It’s a much bigger shoe!
I remember the time Chandler and Joey won the quiz about how well they all knew each other; and (temporarily) moved into Monica’s flat. On a recent holiday, without the luxury of Netflix™, my wife and I turned to one such quiz. Those couples ones you get on the phone. It was a little upsetting to find I knew her far better than she knew me.
Am I even the same shoe other people think I am?
I remember Joey getting his head stuck in the turkey. Oh my god. Am I STUCK… IN A SHOE?
Chandler snaps me out of it.
The offer’s been rejected. Boy, do I not miss house hunting! All that stress. It’s crazy to think it’s now three years since we last had to go through it all.
Although it was worth it. I was saying before I left: One of the things I love about our current house is it’s only got good memories. There’s none of the baggage of the first, where we spent the pandemic.
Maybe I should be happy for Chandler and Monica? Moving on to a new stage of their life.
It may be quicker than I thought! Turns out Chandler was faking the rejection, as he didn’t want everyone else ruining the moment for Monica.
Now he mentions it. They were all being super selfish! Trampling on Monica’s excitement. Wait a minute… I hope I didn’t do that with all my whinging about my other friends moving.
I can understand why everyone would be sad about Chandler and Monica moving away. Ten years is a long time to live in the same place! With the same people. And Monica was there for even longer!
I think that’s part of the pain I feel from my friends being spread out. A huge number of us lived together over the years. With one house being the centre of it all for four years. I still dream of it occasionally, and it regularly comes up whenever we catch up.
It’s interesting that some of the most memorable events over the last ten years happened in Monica’s flat. And, on the face of it, all those memories are quite small and inconsequential really. But doesn’t that capture it?
When you’re gone, it's all the little things you miss.
Real Live Sitcom Moment:
Shortly after the above I rang my wife to catch up. And she shared a story from Granny’s house:
My son had a bit of bottom trouble. To be frank, he shat himself.
He still needed to go, so Granny got the pants off and put him on the toilet. But my sister wanted to help, so she attempted to pick up the dirty pants, only for Granny to insist that she deal with them.
Granny made a move to grab them. But forgot that she was also holding the boy on the toilet. So he fell forward and, somehow, his pooey bum squeaked down the front of the toilet. Painting a part of the porcelain that usually remains clean.
Hrrm. Maybe, after all, being out here isn’t so bad.
