No apartment. No job. And a one-way ticket to Thailand.

When you don't have an apartment and you don't need to go into the office every day because you've been laid off... your life quickly starts to look, sound and feel like the opener of Bridget Jones' Diary.  There is a lot of wine.  There is ice cream.  You are in your pajamas and your life sound track essentially turns into "All By Myself"  and unfortunately, Hugh Grant isn't about to pop in to ruin or make things better, depending on how you see that side of the story.  In an extreme turn of events, I actually began watching the first few seasons of Grey's Anatomy... yeah, life was like that.  Life was watching a show where one character was having sex with another character who was actually dead, and a ghost.

To break down how I ended up here....

April 22, 2015:  Homeless

I had to move.  Again.  Only this time I wasn't looking to move from the "penthouse" in the West Village that wasn't actually a penthouse but really only a one bedroom apartment so many steps above the rest of the world that I had to actually count them outloud as I ascended, to know that I was, in fact, making progress.  

Just prior to Christmas, the good people of my management company told me simply, to leave.  There was a letter, it was very official, and there was also a lawyer who... was not.  Very back room of a bowling alley in Queens sounding.  As my building was and is still covered in scaffolding and a net which diffused light but also trapped birds, all signs point to a huge gut renovation, but who really knows.  They had been raising my rent 10% a year, those thugs.  And, it was rumored that they had just made their way on to de Blasio's slum lord list.  Sure, it was probably good to move, but really it just seemed so, so, so hard.  

After thinking about buying an apartment and then thinking about conserving money and moving (gasp!) back to the Upper East Side, I "bought time" and threw everything into Manhattan Mini Storage --- another notorious and insane shell game of a business in NYC.  Luckily, a family member was out of town until the top of April, so I had someplace to go.  

March 10, 2015:  Jobless

This was the perfect day to decide to not wash my hair, to put on jeans I might have worn the day before, and to ask my assistant to pick up a venti from Starbucks and leave it on my desk for when I got in. (Note, I also paid for other friend’s coffees).

March 10th happened to also be the day that ten minutes before I was supposed to interview a team candidate, my boss called me into her office and as she was closing the door I raised both hands above my head (still holding that venti) and loudly joked, “am I laid off?!”  I had heard about the coming of a cosmic quantity of job cuts.  She replied, deadpan, “yes.”   Cue a discussion with HR, an ugly cry with coworkers in the Lion King alley - next to those foul characters suiting up for a day of pictures and tips - having to buy a phone for the first time in years and a lot of vodka consumption.

April 1, 2015:  A Ticket

Trip planning meant writing every place I wanted to go on a post it... and seeing if it stuck.

Trip planning meant writing every place I wanted to go on a post it... and seeing if it stuck.

Forget culture and higher learning, I'm headed to the beach.  I need a tan, a cheap cocktail, new hobbies and to read for the first time in about seven years.  And so, these are the feelings and the events that lead up to purchasing a one-way ticket to Koh Samui.  I am supposed to fly through Heathrow, through to Singapore and then a short flight to Samui.

I've gotten myself into the zone by watching Eat Pray Love as well as Under The Tuscan Sun.  Julia Roberts and Diane Lane may be my sister spirit animals.  I told my mother this who promptly noted that they were playing over 40 year old divorced women looking for the meaning in life.  She then noted I shouldn't "rush that phase because it would be here in no time."  Thank you, mom.  Thank you.  We will see if I invite you to the villa I may buy with the money I don't have when I go on my friend's gay tour of Italy.  (If you are missing the reference, this is the plot to Under The Tuscan Sun)

With some packing consultancy from Lindsay and few slick moves with getting enough medication out of United Healthcare's "Vacation Prescription" policy, I should be ready in no time to say bon voyage....