Frigid Wait

Things are about to get a little more challenging for my hips.

A new frozen yogurt place is opening down the block—not a grubby Tast-i-Delight, or an oh-so-2009 Pinkberry (which is actually on the next block). No, dear people. This one is going to be a veritable fro yo nirvana—the kind like they have in L.A. that has 12 different self-serve machines and a massive bar of topping delights that you can heap on yourself. I mean, your yogurt. Heap on your yogurt.

In the words of the brilliant and reliably pithy Tina Fey: I want to go to there.

And so I did…with my suitcase. I’m sorry, it was implied that I’ll be relocating there toot suite—you got that, right? Note to self: must forward mail to new address. Also, must tell husband where he can find me.

But I digress. I arrived last week with my suitcase and the pup (because I’m responsible that way), ready to hunker down to an afternoon at the topping bar when I was rebuffed. Now this was an affront on so many levels, the most glaring of which was because the big banner outside the store plainly stated: “Coming in March!” There’s an exclamation point at the end of the sign. It’s written in a cheery, red script that right now—good God, I can see it from my window taunting me as I write this—is lying. Lying to me, to all of Second Avenue, nay, to all of Midtown East! Last time I looked it was March. Wait, did daylight savings time change the month? Did something else happen with the calendar I wasn’t made aware of? Are the Mayans to blame here? The Aztecs?

When I rolled my suitcase into the disappointingly unfinished store and posited these very questions to the worker man inside, he shrugged, crushed his cigarette out on the floor and offered up some sort of explanation about wall coverings needing to be finished before he told me to stop unpacking.

“Damnit, man,” I told him, forgetting for a moment that I wasn’t Dr. McCoy from Star Trek. “We don’t care about the bloody décor—just get the yogurt machines installed!”

“Seriously, lady,” he said. “Stop unpacking your suitcase and leave.”

Which I did because there wasn’t a dresser or anything to put my clothes in. Thanks to Crate and Barrel, that will all change in eight to 10 days.

That reminds me, I should have a bed sent too.

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