A few weeks ago, I was rushing to catch the train when I broke my brand new bottle of foundation. Sephora has a generous return policy, so I briefly contemplated carrying the gloopy shards of glass back to their ancestral home before deciding that even I couldn’t be so ridiculous (and okay, I had no time).

I threw them away and kept running–that funny run I do when I’m wearing heels, for some reason it involves a lot of arm flailing?

And then, while I was speed-walking across what felt like a ten-lane street, my brain went ‘hold up, reality check’, and I realized that I was running to get to a GALA in NEW YORK CITY, which I was being PAID to attend (and I do NOT mean à la ‘Pretty Woman’, thank you).

I caught the train, and when I emerged, I found myself face-to-face with my very favorite building in Midtown. It’s the one I saw while looking out the window of my first interview, on my first day as a New York resident, and every time I see it I’m like, ‘Oh! What are you doing here? I’m so happy to see you!’ even though it’s a building and it never moves.

At the gala, I ran into people I know from other parts of my life and was even more surprised. It’s like I can’t fully comprehend that I live here.

I hope I never do.