January 10th, 1981

I had forgotten that I had promised Roseanne, a layout artist at work, that I would help her move today. She called and woke me up and reminded me. I showered, gulped a cup of lukewarm instant coffee and took a taxi to her new apartment to help unload. She’s moving into “Tudor City” up by the U.N. Great view of the East River. Robert and Irene, also from work, were there. After, her sister dropped me off at Gimbel’s where she and Robert and Irene had gone to pick up a carpet for Roseanne. Roseanne is early-thirties, divorced. How pitiful our lives seem when reduced to a bunch of boxes, and some broken down wicker furniture. Her apartment is a tiny little apartment (the building used to be a hotel) and she doesn’t even have a stove. Now, back in my own apartment. I realize what a marvelous little studio I have. I just had breakfast at The Pink Teacup, and now I’m going to clean house and get this apartment in some kind of order.

I spend a crazy afternoon amid the debris of my apartment. I have been moving furniture around in circles for hours, trying to rearrange, not coming up with anything that feels better. I’m about to move it back the way it was.