The Setting.

Before I dive headlong into *life as I know it*, some background information might be a useful beginning. I *am* an archaeologist, so CONTEXT is everything, right?

So, I live my life at 29 in Philadelphia, PA in a tiny one-bedroom third story apartment in Center City. My apartment is green. And full of books. And a cat. And a boyfriend. I live dangerously close to Whole Foods, which has become a substantial crutch on the anti-salary. Most of the other people who live on my street own their brownstones. They are rich yuppies with spoiled, ill-behaved miniature yuppies-to-be who spend their time screaming their heads off outside on the sidewalk (the sidewalk that happens to be below my windows). They are loud and extremely annoying. The yuppie fathers spend their time yelling "Slow down!" at cars using our street (our very *public* street, mind you) as a... street. The fathers yell this at the tops of their lungs. They are just as loud and just as extremely annoying as their unhappy, screaming children. On the bright side, my apartment does have a big back deck off of the bedroom at the back of the building, which is secluded by huge pine trees... it is nice. It's rare to have a private deck in the city. Thus, I have not yet moved out and away from the street full of brownstone-owning yuppies. This is where I live.