There's this pesky camera crew that's been hanging out on my stoop since this morning. Earlier an ABC van was parked on the street and some overly coiffed lady was running her hands over and over her undisturbed do. Now guys with heavy bags of equipment and boom mikes are hanging out, no van in sight. They keep looking at me as I leave, return, leave, return on my Sunday errands.

Yeah, I'm just getting back from Filene's Basement and the grocery store, but I'm ready for my close-up. Again.

The times when I most wish I had a partner in New York are commercial holidays (hello, Valentine's Day!) and when I'm running errands. Errands can never be run all at one time - I can only carry so much. If I had a boyfriend here you can bet I wouldn't be the one making a mad dash to get to the library 96% of the time. Oh, no. Boyfriend could pick up and return the library books if he had some time off during the day, which I never do. Or imagine if I divided up the errands and he ran the downtown ones and I ran the uptown ones? How much easier things would be. He could carry the heavy, wet laundry in the cart up the 39 steps.

I'm not abandoning my feminism here, and I know men are more than pack-mules. I'm just being honest. I want someone bigger than me to carry the heavy stuff. I want someone closer to Gristedes to pick up a quart of milk for my cereal. I want another schedule to manipulate and mark up.

But, you know, this is New York City. I could hire that.

But could I pay in cupcakes and smiles? Hmmm...time to scour Craigslist?