I’ve come to the conclusion that I have been a motion addict. Case in point: how much I’ve moved houses. Since I left home at 18, the longest that I’ve ever stayed in one dwelling is still under three years. That was a groundfoor apartment in the East Village that my dear friend Seb referred to as “the cave.” God, what does that say about me that I felt most comfortable in a place with no light where I could hide out and sleep late? I was in my twenties so my nocturnal habits were excusable.

I lived moment to moment, never thinking of the consequences, and luckily enough, came out content and grounded. Knowing that I could always seep back into the shadows of “the cave,” was comforting. Ordering Eggs Benedict at 1:00 in the afternoon from a