In glassy-eyed day dreams, I live in New York City. I rent a one-room apartment on the ground floor of a historic, federal-style brick home built in the 1800's nestled in Greenwich Village. To me, this is the heart of the city.

I live behind the only red door on Washington Place. The brass handle makes a loud and distinct clinking sound that echoes through the tall, skinny hallway connecting the basement to the 3rd floor. The entry area is paneled in deep wood that that I find elegant, but still, every time I make my way through there, I wonder why the lady who owns the home put black slate tile on the floor. The treads on the stairs are a light wood paired with white risers. Had I been making décor choices, I'd have laid a neutral tile in the entry, however, I wasn't asked for an opinion.

I based my entire décor around a lampshade – a small white shade with bright embroidery. The walls are yellow, the softest buttery yellow you can possibly imagine. The furniture is all white. Some people find this boring, but I like it because it feels clean. I have arranged the apartment so that my bed faces the French doors that lead onto the patio. This is less-than-amazing placement as far as Feng Shui goes, but I like the sun streaming in every morning.

I am blocks from the Christopher Street station on the Number One – Broadway – 7 Avenue, Local. On the subway maps, it's red, and I like this because it's easy to spot unlike the J, M and Z lines which are gold and blend into the background fairly easily. I wonder why they didn't use a different color like bright blue. They used two shades of green – why not two shades of blue? I'm certain there is logic to this; I just haven't figured it out.

I have learned that you can avoid the (ridiculous) lines at Magnolia if you go in the evening rather than mid-afternoon when the tourists line the block. Sometimes, I stroll over there in the evenings. I always pick the vanilla cupcakes though I do occasionally debate banana pudding from behind the counter. (It's also excellent after dinner at Mary's Fish Camp.)

This place is chaotic and loud. It is always busy, always moving forward. This is the heart of the city. This is home.