Going with my gut instinct to NOT take the apartment on the best street possible with the worst kitchen possible proved to be the right choice for me. Last Wednesday night, I was assuming the usual position on the couch, awaiting the latest episode of Lost, doing my nightly perusal of the most recent craigslist postings. In my travels, I happened to click on yet another rent stabilized on the perfect tree-lined street on the Upper West Side. Looked perfect, was located on W. 78th and W. End Avenue, not two blocks away from the apartment with the lean-to kitchen, and the pictures were even better.

I shrugged to my cat perched next to me, "Another great place that will not be available when I'm looking," I said to her.

Then I scrolled down. Low and behold what it revealed: "Available June 1 or possibly sooner"

What on earth? Unheard of. So acute was my disbelief that I didn't even bother calling...but I did forward it to my email account, and, convinced that such a perfect possibility would never become a reality for me, and forgot about the listing until morning.

I decided to call, left a message, and a few hours later Mike Sieger, broker extraordinaire, called me back. Indeed, available June 1, maybe sooner, located in a building where another, 650 square feet, owned by a sweet little old lady who lives on the first floor. I told him my story, how I wasn't looking for a place for a couple months, and how I'd just turned down another place with a kitchen the size of my laptop.

Long story short, after a series of mind-bogglingly yet again serendipitous events, I signed a lease for a lovely 1 bedroom apartment on West 78th Street just a half block from Riverside Drive, two blocks from bagels from heaven made by H & H on Broadway, and four blocks from Central Park.

Now commences a new obsession: buying new furniture for my new life.