Good News Friday: I have so many bathroom choices in my new apartment . Rafa Nadal a class act, again. And MLK’s speech, still great 50 years on

move

So Thursday was moving day for the Lewises, and as exciting as it was to be re-locating from our tiny 1-bedroom Manhattan closet into a 2-bedroom, 2 1/2 bath (“I could choose among 3 toilets to pee in!” I exclaimed at one point, and yes I acknowledge that I’m weird), it was also pretty exhausting.

In fact, I thought of a whole bunch of things I wanted to blog about the moving experience, since all of you have gone through it to and can relate, but have forgotten most of them.
Still, a few parting shots before I head off to bed, exhausted, and feeling like I’m at a hotel since this whole place feels foreign to me:

— Moving company guys were great; very efficient, hard-working, and worked fairly quickly. But they left a bad taste in my mouth at the end when, after my wife paid them, with tip included, they guilted her into a bigger tip by, basically, asking for one. I thought it was in really poor taste.

— We moved from a Manhattan building with 450 apartments, to one with only 74. It truly feels like we went from a chain hotel to a bed and breakfast; at the new place all the doormen and staff knew we were moving in today, took the time to welcome us, and really were friendly.
— In that same vein, I learned that there are no mailboxes and mailbox keys for the residents at the new building; the front desk lobby guy sorts all the mail and then gives it to you when you come in at the end of the day.
On the one hand, it’s sweet and quaint. On the other, do I really want this dude knowing everything I get in the mail? I mean, we expect our postal guy to know about our personal business, but that’s his job. This just seems a little odd to me.

— Finally, and maybe only some of you will appreciate this fully, it’s truly outstanding to once again have a washer and dryer in my own apartment. For years I schlepped down to various laundry rooms and laundromats, and it was always a pain. To know I can now throw in a few loads and only have to go 10 feet is a beautiful thing.

— Last thing: I never want to see another box again. All around me for weeks: boxes. All around me now: Boxes. I swear if I hear Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Boxer” on the radio this week, I may snap and go all Michael Douglas “Falling Down” on the world.

nadal

**It’s not exactly a state secret to you readers that I’m an enormous fan of one Roger Federer, but like I’ve said before I never really have been able to develop a hatred for his biggest rival, Rafael Nadal, mostly because Nadal is such a good guy as well.
He still flies coach sometimes, his ego is the size of a gnat, and he truly seems to get how fortunate he is to do what he loves so well.

A few weeks ago I wrote about Federer making a sick fan’s dreams come true, and this week at the U.S. Open Rafael Nadal had a wonderful encounter with a fan who has suffered so greatly in his short life.

Read this for a reminder of why tennis is so lucky to have a guy like Nadal be a star.

Finally today, I’ve been a little distracted the past few days and haven’t seen some of the what I’m sure was terrific news coverage of the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington, and Martin Luther King Jr.’s brilliant “I Have A Dream” speech.
Recently I saw a piece on CBS News about the speech and learned that King improvised the whole “I Have a Dream” section. Amazing he could be that eloquent right on the spot.

Here’s the speech, it’s always worth watching.

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