WHEN YOU LIVE IN A WALK-UP:
You memorize all the phone numbers of the places that deliver.
You get groceries delivered.
You get wine delivered.
You get everything delivered.
You send your laundry out to be washed.
You chant, “I hate these stairs.”, every single time you walk up them.
You talk yourself into believing that walking upstairs is an actual workout and stop going to the gym.
You know who your true friends are when they agree to come to your place instead theirs.
You have strange erotic dreams about elevators.
WHEN YOU LIVE IN A WALK-UP AND HAVE A BABY:
You believe that you are going to forever be trapped inside with a crying infant.
It takes two hours worth of planning just to leave the apartment. Wait…make that three.
You pack extra diapers.
You pack your stroller with enough stuff to last you a week.
You become an expert at bumping a stroller down stairs.
You become an expert at pulling a stroller up stairs.
You silently chant, “I hate these stairs.”, every single time you walk up them.
You truly are trapped in your apartment when it snows and your super doesn’t shovel the stairs outside. Oh…I guess I forgot to mention the outside stairs.
You get to see the true kindness that exists in the people that offer to help you up the stairs.
You silently curse out the guy that pushes past you as you are dragging your stroller up the stairs while carrying groceries and does not offer to help you.
You know who your true friends are when they agree to come to your place instead of theirs…especially when they are also coming with a stroller.
You discover how strong you are and how a couple of flights of stairs can’t stop you from going places.
But, you still have strange, erotic dreams about elevators.