Well, in case you were wondering, it turns out that transatlantic apartment-hunting is not all that easy. Firstly, I haven’t decided exactly where I want to be living and it is becoming clear just how indecisive I really am. I change my mind almost hourly between Chelsea and Chinatown, East Village and Upper East Side. Some days I even fancy Brooklyn.

My indecision is somewhat incidental though, given how few apartments there actually are within my price range, and the fact that I need a place of my own with Ruby rather than a flat share. Sorry, apartment share. Thanks to tip-offs from a couple of friends I have been steered towards the wonder that is Craig’s List. Surprisingly, it also seems that people want to meet me before they let their apartments to me, and of course that is slightly difficult seeing as I am on the wrong side of a rather large ocean. Irritatingly the one apartment that looks like it is made for me - about $100 a month less than I was expecting to have to pay and in the heart of Chelsea, available for precisely the right dates - also looks as though it might not happen due to technical problems: emails seem to be getting lost and there is a lot of confusion on both sides about who wants what.

I am trying to follow my best friend’s advice, and not panic about it. She gave me a talking to and told me to stop worrying about what I didn’t want, and start visualising what I did want. Let me clarify that I am not the sort of person who normally ‘visualises’ but I am trying. Trying very hard. I am visualising a tiny little apartment in a brick building with a bright sunny window, a fire escape down the outside and a formica kitchen table (I’m not sure when formica snuck onto my list of wants but it seems to make sense in my daydream - sorry, visualisation). I am visualising Ruby drinking fresh orange juice and eating muffins for breakfast. I know I will find an apartment. Ideally, I would like to have a place waiting for me when I go over, but, if I don’t, I don’t. I may not be a natural at visualising, but I am quite good at picking my battles.

On the plus side, I have today bought my travel insurance. I got quotes varying from around eighty quid to almost six hundred to cover me and Ruby for the ninety days until we come back for Christmas, and since I couldn’t honestly see any difference between them I went for the least expensive. All I was really after was the medical cover, having seen a friend come home from the Sates recently with crippling medical debts. I also think my college law teacher would be proud of me as I actually sat down and meticulously read all the terms of the policy before signing up, rather than the usual skim I offer important documents.

To finish off my day I spent half an hour attempting to take the seat covers off my buggy so I could wash them prior to sticking the enormous cumbersome thing on eBay, before accepting that they just don’t come off and taking the whole lot out into the garden to be hosed down instead.

Actually, now that I’ve written it all down it seems like I have done more than I realised. I have a shiny new insurance policy and a shiny old buggy. I’ve also wrangled my way out of my phone contract onto some sort of pay as you go scheme, and tomorrow I will send off my tax return for last year. Once that’s done most of what remains is the physical organisation, the packing and sorting, and I’m actually quite looking forward to that. Somehow flying into winter in another city isn’t bad as having it damply sneak up on us here: I’m actually quite looking forward to getting my boots and tights out. Now, I’m off to bed to visualise my apartment some more.

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