For most of my life, I have liked the number 1945. It's always connoted the end of World War Two, in my history-major mind. I'm pretty sure you'd have to be insane not to like that.
Yesterday, my appreciation of the number diminished somewhat. It's less appealing when your lease renewal shows up and that it the number on it, represententing an increase of several several hundreds of dollars.
Expect Manhattan real estate angst to be forthcoming.
But, I'm ready. Let's go.
You know, now that i think about it, perhaps the World War Two analogy isn't all wrong. Consider me the allies, and every apartment in this city the Nazi hordes. See that photo up there? That's gonna be me, on June 1st, hoisting a new pride flag on my fire escape, in victory over the millions of people vying for the oh so many apartments in this city, and saying nana nana poo poo to the idiot who lives in this apartment for $2400 when I lived in it for 14.
Yes, let's go.
