Despite the fact that the temperatures in this city have kept me perspiring around the clock (what the hell is with this humidity?!), I haven’t dropped a significant amount of poundage as a result.
Never mind that I traverse hundreds of stairs every day through the subway system–my weight is still ever increasing.
And even though I spend my days chasing tiny tots around an assortment of indoor and outdoor play-spaces, the number on the scale continues to creep upward.
The reason for this phenomenon?
When I relocated here just a few weeks ago, more than one of my friends told me to download the app or, at the very least, bookmark the website on my browser.
Doing both of those things has been the best and simultaneously worst thing I could’ve ever thought to do.
This is the basic concept of the organization:
24/7 access to food delivery–with no extra charge for using the website.
Hundreds of restaurants from varied styles of cuisine.
Free delivery (most of the time).
The most important part: DE-freaking-LICIOUS.
In the past few days, I’ve sunk my teeth into both sweet and savory crepes (By Suzette), I’ve feasted upon some authentic tasting cheese steak and waffle fries (99 Miles to Philly), and have binged on fried rice and fortune cookies (The China Star).
Half of the fun of using Seamless is pursuing the miles and miles of menus–and most of them ask if you have any special directions for the preparation of your food. Most of my requests have been for extra soy sauce/ketchup and I’ve been delighted to find that the bottoms of the delivery bags are usually lined with whichever I asked for.
The entire process, if you know what kind of food you are looking for, takes less than 5 minutes to click through and check out. Delivery here is so incredibly fast that it feels like the kitchen is inside of your building–and in some cases, it is. [But, if you’re ordering delivery from downstairs, you may be a teeny bit lazy.]
I will say that “ordering in” does remove you from the neighborhood and the general NYC aura and ambiance (which smells strikingly like trash). You don’t get to people watch, you won’t be harassed by panhandlers on the way in and out of the establishment, and you won’t be able to make that meaningful connection with the people ringing you up at the counter or cooking your food in the open kitchen.
But sometimes you’re so stinking tired that the quietude of your apartment calls your name and you know that all you want to hear is that knock at the door signaling that food has arrived. Then you put your pants back on, open the door, receive the sacred bag of victuals and head back to the comfort of your couch.
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