Today marks one month left of Chelsea living. Even less really, as I will spend the last week of the month in glorious Lebanon. So it’s just three weeks to soak in all that beautifully gentrified Chelsea has to offer, before heading off to the dad-bod, mustache land of Brooklyn.

I pretend that I am going to do all of the things I have been meaning to do during my tenure here, but it’ll probably all happen well after moving to BKland, if ever at all. Here’s to fooling myself.

Chelsea To Dos:

• The speakeasy behind Stone’s coffee. In the evening there’s always a line of tourists who have just finished dinner at Tao. Perhaps I  go for a breakfast cocktail. Take that SLA.
• Hand pulled noodles at the Chelsea market.
• More Milk bar. Specifically for their soft serve, which I have yet to taste
• Movie! I haven’t been to a movie theater in over a year (more?). Perhaps I go see Scott’s next release, Thor 3?
• Venezuelan restaurant. I dated a Venezuelan for 7 or so months, yet somehow never ventured over.  Now that we’re not dating, perhaps I will. (For those of you wondering, it was a very loving, mature, and mutually accepted end.)
• Galleries: there are a million over here, I have friends who work at 2, and I have been to exactly zero.

Things about Chelsea I will dearly miss:

• My “balcony.” I spent most of the summer out here with a glass of wine and a boyfriend, watching the Joyce stagehands filtering out to puff down their cigs.
• Citibike commute. When I first moved here I was reluctant thinking it was a) cheesy and b) dangerous, but after discovering it halved my commute, and I didn’t have to ride through traffic (more on you later, WSH), I was smitten.
• Proximity to Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods and Foragers and Gristede’s (which has really stepped up its game) and the Saturday farmer’s market where I like to buy pickles.
• Proximity to everything. Chelsea really is in the center of Manhattan (anywhere you’d actually go at least). I rarely have to take the subway anywhere, which is not only good for exercise, but also sanity.
• The ridiculous but kind service at my local Starbucks. Located approximately 14 steps from my front gate, Starbuck’s is my dedicated study hole. Essentially every morning over the past year, I have gone in and ordered the exact same thing. Tall coffee, room for milk. Then a refill on my way out. I have never been treated as a regular. No one has ever assumed my order or known my name. Instead, I remain anonymous, and I think I kind of like that.
• The West Side Highway. As I ran down, and then back up again yesterday (the last day in September), I tried to count how many times I must have run this path over the past 15 months. It’s surely over 300. I’ll miss you WSH.

Onto plaid-er pastures. See ya soon, Brooklyn.