For the actor Chris Perfetti, who lives in a fifth-floor walk-up in Brooklyn Heights, every day is leg day.
“It’s worth it for the view,” said Mr. Perfetti, 35, who portrays the sixth-grade teacher Jacob Hill on “Abbott Elementary,” Quinta Brunson’s public school mockumentary set in Philadelphia. The fourth season premiered this month.
Mr. Perfetti, a longtime New York theater actor who broke out on the show in 2021, still considers Brooklyn home, though he is also in Los Angeles six months of the year shooting “Abbott.” (He recently bought a 100-year-old cottage in the woods in Los Angeles’s Laurel Canyon neighborhood, though he said he has no plans to give up his Brooklyn one-bedroom, where he lives on the building’s top floor.)
“I definitely miss New York when I’m in L.A. more than I miss L.A. when I’m in New York,” said Mr. Perfetti, who was born in Rochester, N.Y.
He studied drama at the State University of New York at Purchase in Westchester County and spent his weekends taking Metro-North trains into Manhattan to see shows.
“I pretty much jet back here as soon as they call cut on ‘Abbott,’” he said.
LATE START I wake up before noon, but not by much. “Abbott” requires me to wake up in the wee, wee dark hours of the morning — I’m usually up at 4:30 or 5:30 a.m. to be on set. That requires an alarm every day, so on the days when I’m not shooting, I let my body get as much sleep as I can.
SUITING UP The day is already well on its way, so I throw on my running shoes and attempt to catch up. I try to jet out the door shortly after I wake up and not get sucked into the vortex of my phone.
LOTIONS AND POTIONS I get an iced Americano at Salter House in Brooklyn Heights. They don’t market themselves as a coffee house; they’re an actual home goods store. They sell lotions and potions and oddities that are really fun to tickle my brain with while I’m waiting.
SIPPING AND STROLLING I mosey down to Brooklyn Bridge Park, coffee in hand. In the past few years, I’ve gone from doing plays for 100 people in a black box theater to being on a TV show that millions of people watch every week, so I’m recognized more now. For the most part, though, people are pretty chill about it. When I’m away from home in Manhattan, they’re more eager to say something.
A ROCKING RUN I run between the three piers closest to my apartment — the three sisters, as I call them. Right now I’m listening to Orville Peck’s “Bronco,” which I find very motivating and beautiful.
LAWN TIME I sit on the grass somewhere — panting! — and check my email, texts and Instagram. Then, I’ll often read a script; there’s such a wealth of untapped genius happening from New York playwrights. I’m constantly reaching out to all my playwright friends and trying to make TV shows with them.
CATCHING UP I’ll ride that post-workout brain high on the walk back to Atlantic Avenue, usually while on the phone annoying one of my friends. When actors are feeling great after an audition, they always call somebody, and the same with people who have a strained relationship with fitness and working out when they’re leaving the gym. Unfortunately for my poor friends, I am both of those things.
GROCERY RUN I’d normally stop by Perelandra, a one-stop shop for beautiful produce, to pick up some eggs and maybe a rotisserie chicken, but when I came back from L.A. earlier this month, I learned that they’d recently closed for good! R.I.P. Perelandra! It was such a singular spot.
REFUELING My first meal of the day is embarrassingly late, so I’ll often grab a croissant from L’Appartement 4F on my way back to my apartment to make lunch.
THE BIGGEST SALAD YOU’VE EVER SEEN I get back to my apartment between 2 and 3 p.m., where I’ll prepare the biggest salad you’ve ever seen. That’s dino kale, spinach, cilantro, mint, charred broccoli, green onions, raw garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, cooked quinoa or brown rice, and eggs or a rotisserie chicken.
DEEP CLEAN I’ll take a shower, then spend the rest of the afternoon — there isn’t much left by now! — preparing for the next day, learning lines and cleaning my place. I vacuum almost daily. I’m not a dirty person, but I’m a messy one. When I’m figuring out what to wear, my whole closet comes out.
PRESHOW BITE Ideally, I’ll have dinner at one of the amazing Italian places in the neighborhood with some friends. Brooklyn Heights has an embarrassment of great food, but specifically great Italian food. There’s a placed called Pips on Atlantic Avenue I’m obsessed with, and another place in the Columbia Street Waterfront District called Popina. Their hot chicken Milanese is to die for.
THEATER CREATURE I love seeing a play on a Sunday night, when not many shows have performances. It feels like bonus time, stolen time. A majority of my friends here are actors, and I love seeing them at and in plays. I have a subscription to Playwrights Horizons, which is a theater I would see everything at. And I’m really excited about “Cult of Love,” my friend Leslye Headland’s play, which is about to start previews.
POST-SHOW TOAST If one of my friends is in the show, we’ll go out for a drink afterward at Henry Public or Montero Bar and Grill — which, on a Sunday, is usually left to us locals because the weeknight finance bro crowd has abated.
WINDING DOWN Back at home, I take a really hot shower and then turn on my white noise machine because I live close to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. I really enjoy living alone — “Abbott” is such a fast and furious process with so many people involved that it’s a gift to take moments where I can be absolutely quiet.
LIGHTS OUT I close my blackout blinds so I can sleep as long as I want, then I crawl into bed around 3:30 a.m. and am asleep by 3:31.
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