Shhhhh.

You will all be pleased to know that I have finally closed the Excel window containing the packing list. We're two hours short of an exact week since E, Chulito and I have been completely moved in at the new place, and all of our boxes are unpacked.

Since we've been here, we've worked virtually non-stop. Neither of us is fond of chaos and the sooner we can organize and hang our art and arrange our furniture, the sooner we can get to truly living in the new place.Moving on. Many of you probably already know this, but I'm part of a cult. It's a good one though. Oprah is a member. I actually joined before she did, but I admit I felt a wave of approval when I saw it featured on O's show. Like when I buy one of her books in Barnes & Noble. I obviously, rip the sticker off immediately. But, inside, I feel warm knowing that not only did Oprah read the same book, she loved it.Oh Oprah. The power you have over me.

Since the last big holiday season, I have had a clipping from the Jonathan Adler catalog on my refrigerator.

The 10 Commandments of Happy Chic
2. Thou shalt not deny thyself hotelish comfort at home. Thou shalt furnish thy rooms with paw-pampering, hand-loomed llama wool rugs, luxurious lighting and our fabulous furniture. Thy rooms shalt feel like the most opulent hotel rooms in which thou hast ever stayed. Thou art worth it.

When our first ever official guests, HRH & "A" (her quotes, not mine.) came over, the first thing they said was something to the effect of, "This is like a hotel."

That, my friends, is The Secret.

Since Erica and I moved in together, we have treated our apartment like we owned it. We furnished it as if it were a (moderately affordable) true home. And we bought things that were nice and made us neurotic every time Andrew, our dear friend the klutz, came over to eat. The things we've accumulated over the years are nice. But there was always the sense of putting makeup on a pig. A very attractive, comfortable pig, but at it's core, a pig. You know, I loved our old apartment and appreciate it for everything we had there, but there were always things I wished I could change about it. (By the way, HRH is not the only one addicted to things. I am a material girl. I love the decadence of Times Square. I love the anal-retentive neatness and predictability of The Gap. I am not green. I only hope that the World Wildlife Federation and Greenpeace can forgive me.)

However, as I've been unpacking our furniture and our art and our beloved tchotchke crap, it's all making sense. We finally are in a home that matches our taste and accommodates our beautiful stuff. Something that happened as a result of practicing The Secret. (Seriously. Don't knock it until you've tried it. Kum Ba Yaaaaaah!)

The Secret tells us that there is, based on the fact that everything on this planet is composed of pure energy, a universal Law of Attraction. Basically, good energy attracts good, bad energy attracts bad. Several of the speakers in the film suggest that you live as if you already have your dreams. The theory is that once you put yourself in the mindset of already having what you want, you open yourself up to it and it appears.

Well, we lived as if we were in our own home. We lived as if we were in a place worthy of the nice things we filled it with. And just as Erica and I were realizing that we were growing out of the old place and could no longer do anything to make it nicer than it was, or to make it perfect for us without breaking the agreements set forth in our lease, we found our dream place. We beat out a bidding war -- even though we were not the highest bidders. We got a down payment from Erica's parents. We got a mortgage. (My credit history is evidence enough that this was not just natural occurrence. This was a miracle.) And most importantly, we are here.

And, truly, my first step toward it was hanging Jonathan's second commandment on the adequate, but not perfect refrigerator at 79 Carroll Street.