My new (used) French press

I'm settling into my new job, everything about it has gone about as well as I could have hoped. My coworkers seem cool, I understand the work, and for once I am not being pulled in 9 different directions. I know what I am supposed to do and I am given the time to do it. which is nice, and possibly the norm in the working world. I understand some job require multitasking, but I'm starting to think my old job was less a case of 'handling multiple projects in multiple disciplines' and more 'one guy doing the job of several people.'

The only real downside has been the commute. It takes me about an hour each way, taking 3 trains and walking a good piece. If I'm still here when the 2nd Ave Subway opens, that might help. But for now its construction is just one more obstacle to getting me to work every day. I feel bad for the businesses on 2nd, you can barely see most of them behind the barricades of construciton fencing and netting. The local BID produced a map to the stores in the area in the hopes shoppers will still be able to find stuff.

There's not much I can do about the commute, and as long as I have a good book I can bear it. And although it may be rationalizing, I have really enjoyed getting to know this part of town. I haven't been this far north much; it's far different than I expected, lots of brownstones and unexpected architecture. Instead of feeling like The City, it feels very neighborhoody, a lot like parts of Brooklyn. Of course it's not Brooklyn, as evidenced by the preponderance of wealthy white people and all these hills (it's like hiking the Adirondacks I tell you!). I have never seen so many small dogs on long leashes, so many old people at the grocery store, or so many thrift shops.

I heard that thrift shops abound on the upper east side because there are so many rich people who buy stuff, never use it, and then buy new stuff, necessitating a new home for all the 'junk.' I keep finding new ones in my walks around the area, and I keep buying stuff I may or may not need. One much-needed purchase was a french press coffee pot. For some reason my office doesn't provide coffee (I know!) so I need a source of my own that doesn't require me to leave the building. After a fruitless search at the local dollar stores, I found one at the thrift shop 2 blocks from the office. With some "Firefighter Joe's Blend" from Duane Reade, I'm jittery by 9:30. The office is short on amenities, but the atmosphere seems much more correct to my disposition, it makes me wonder why I didn't change jobs a long time ago. Maybe it was the short commute, free coffee and big paychecks? It certainly wasn't the neckties, endless meetings and soul-crushing work.