The first I found out about this is when some strange guys showed up and started putting my stuff in boxes. Yea, boxes.
All my toys disappeared. And I cried. And then my mat vanished. And I cried. And finally, I was bundled into my carseat and off we went to Francine's place as my chair also disappeared. Daddy promised me it would be like Christmas on the other end when we got to open all the boxes. But if that's what Christmas is, remind me to ask for a shotgun so I can keep all the elves from stealing my toys NEXT year!
The worst part about this is that I have yet to have a proper coffee from Joe's, Jack's or Mud. I'm yet to sample the world famous pizza. I haven't had a proper bagel, a proper slice of cheesecake, nor a true Ruben sandwich. Nor have I had a vodka gimlet. So, I'm clearly leaving New York at least a good 21 years too soon for my tastes!
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