My Quest For A Completely Average Pizza

Last week I moved into a new apartment. Moving is a horrible task, and even though I tried to do a bunch of things that would ostensibly make my life easier during the move — renting those reusable plastic bins instead of getting moving boxes; calling around to find the mover who would give me the best quote; arranging several furniture deliveries so that things would arrive at my apartment the day I got here — life, as they say, had other plans for me. My moving bin company ghosted me. My movers lectured me on the stripped screws holding together my bedframe and told me they couldn’t reassemble it for me in my new apartment (I didn’t know!! I bought it on Craigslist!!!!) so I slept on my mattress on the floor for several nights like a 22 year old drummer living in a living room converted into a bedroom in Bushwick. I’m still waiting for the vintage dresser I bought to arrive and yet I have the gall to be offended it’s still not here, like I didn’t buy it from a stranger on Instagram.

Now that’s what I’m talking about. Photo by Alan Hardman on Unsplash

i’m a freelance writer and editor. you can also read me in places like the new york times and vanity fair.

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