The home we had in Seattle was a mansion (read: coooondooo). We had stainless steel appliances, marble counter tops, a view of the Puget Sound, a microwave, and TWO SINKS! We hosted rooftops BBQs while staring at Mt. Rainer. We had a concierge who would pick up our dry cleaning. It was a palace and we really had no idea.

Our current home has no garbage disposal, no dishwasher, terrible hot water, wafer thin walls, and a toilet that screams like a prepubescent boy each time you flush it. Did I mention the holes in the wall, the slanted stove, and the refrigerator without a light? What about the heater that only works in the summer, the dislocated light switch, and the 300 pound elephant who is constantly bowling while listening to Dr. Dre only one floor above us?

I do not point this out to talk about how crappy our New York City apartment is, rather to note how grateful I am for the things that I have. I believe that gratitude is more discipline than emotional response. It is a posture we take towards life (active) rather than just a spontaneous emotional reaction (passive).

New York, and my avoidant superintendent Jimmy, has been a place that has invited me to this kind of discipline.