Sign a lease for an apartment in Boston: check.
Make sure the apartment meets your cornucopia of unreasonable expectations like having a gas stove, a pantry, a walk-in closet, a private porch, and residing in hip local: check and check.
Um, actually make that two walk-in closets. Because you're a baller: checity check.
Try to see at least twenty other apartments beforehand. At least two of them should have peeling paint and burn marks on the floor and make you ponder the fine line between old and quaint and old and decrepit: check.
Do tons of research on finding an apartment online and not see a single one that you researched: oh my, check.
Work with mostly nice relators but try to have at least one authentically sleezy snake oil salesman experience. Politely laugh at his jokes, maybe renig on an application, and get the hell out of there: check.
Have a hard time remembering how to spell realators: check.
Take photos of Moses by the reservoir:
J/k, I wish. No, these goslings:
Eat good Boston food, have good Boston company, drink good Boston brewery beer: check, check, and check.
Go to Harvard Square, window shop, go into quaint little shops with overpriced items;,buy a famed chocolate mouse from La Burdick chocolate and take ridiculous pictures with it:
Like Boston just a little more, even though your baseline level of like was already pretty high:
Go back to work and replace your obsessive checking of craigslist, with an obsessive checking of higherEd jobs: ugh, check.
Purchase boxes and begin to regret liking clothing, shoes, books so much that you felt the need to buy seemingly enough of those items to fill a small village in the former Yugoslavia: check.
Get lazy about cooking and just keep eating cheese and pickle sandwiches for dinner: check.
Make Moses think you are bearing his child because no non-preggo person could ever like cheese and pickle sandwiches: um, yes they could and check.
Wish you could always accomplish this many tasks on your to-do list: big fat check.