So Mom and I are also in Philly. In violation of all privacy laws, I will tell you that Dad is getting a pacemaker.
Honestly, I’m more anxious about my impending apartment search and move (note: I am not staying put after all thanks to a big rent hike) than Dad’s procedure. At first glance, you’ll probably think I’m a self-involved ass for that.
But I swear: apartment hunting in NYC is generally more stressful than getting a pacemaker. Weird, right?
I’m approaching Dad’s procedure as a great thing actually. The doctor thinks he’ll feel like a new man once the pacemaker is in. Fingers crossed.
I hope to return to NYC Tuesday. And to blogging soon after that.
Are you bored yet? If so (or if not) say so in the comments. It’s lonely over here! I see that you’re reading but no one leaves me notes…
Moving right along, I gave moderate consideration to this apartment in a cond-op building. Of every Manhattan (not Brooklyn) apartment I viewed during my hunt, this unit featured the nicest fixtures of all. At that time, I was considering increasing my upper rent limit to $2800 so the broker wisely showed me the rental she called a unicorn.
I have tweeted ad nauseum about my hunt for a New York City apartment, and the difficulty of finding one while still based in Washington, DC. Enough of my twitter friends have commented on the process that I thought I’d share information about why the hunt is so challenging.
Backing up a little…
I have wanted to move back to NYC – my spiritual home if I, in fact, have anything spiritual – since the moment I left. Each time I returned to Manhattan for work or to visit friends, I tried (and failed) to remember how I managed to move away (for my career) without having some form of a breakdown. I suspect I was numbed by the fact that my move to DC happened just 20 days after September 11.