Antigeist

A lateral move is a move nonetheless

If you read the last post, or this one, or this one, it’ll come as no big shock that G and I can't tolerate our landlord anymore, we have to move. We are not pleased about this, however necessary it may be. Apartment hunting sucks anywhere, but apartment hunting in New York is its own level of hell, a half floor a’la Being John Malkovitch, wedged between Malebolge and Cocytus. (A little preview for the Dante’s Inferno test.)

So yeah, we’ve gotta get out of here. Now having made that decision we fall to sleep at night --when we can, when the constant water leaks don’t drown out the wife-beating bastard downstairs screaming in Polish and breaking the china, or the kids upstairs all night house party that spills into the hallway-- and have sweet dreams of the mythical “Deal”. In the dreams we are secure that with enough time and patience, we’ll just stumble across what is our right and destiny: A huge, well-maintained, pre-war, true two bedroom first floor apartment (or loft) with sole garden access. A massive open floor plan and working fireplace, fully renovated eat-in kitchen, and original tile bath (replete with a claw-foot tub and an endless supply of hot water). Huge windows that spill daylight onto the hand crafted, built in, wall-to-wall bookshelves in the living room, the ones the previous tenants agreed to leave behind as long as we “promise to take good care of them.” Marvelous neighbors who are artistic and liberal and worldly and musical, and quiet as a tomb from nine pm to nine am, who would form a waiting list to see who gets to watch our dog when we go out of town, because they all love her that much. A building with a live-in, on call super --a woman-- who would use her crazy chick intuition to do repairs preemptively. It would be on a tree-lined street, in the Village or something. It would be under a thousand dollars. Rent stabilized. Forever.

Ahhhhhh. Let’s just soak in that make-believe claw foot for a bit, hmmm?

Ahem… anyway, if you know of anything, love your hoody, your landlord, know your asshole neighbor’s lease is up and would like to exchange them for two sane, delightful people and one perfect dog…give us a shout, m’kay? We are not above giving monetary compensation or sexual favors for good leads.*

*not kidding about the money, however the sex would be with my ugly cousin.

Posted by Antigeist at January 27, 2004 02:34 PM