Got me a new place to live

A little over a week ago I was told by my roommate that the landlady, who is her mother, wants me out by the end of the month.

This news threw into motion a flurry of activity that would have exhausted a squirrel on speed, and now, after dozens of subway and bus rides all over the island of Manhattan, six or seven realtors telling me how hard it will be to find what I want, hundreds of cell phone minutes used, about fifteen or so unsatisfactory apartment viewings, and a final compromise that I've accepted begrudgingly, I have found myself a place to live. I think.

It's a studio apartment on the upper east side with a little alcove area where I can put my bed for a shitload of money. The downside (besides the shitload of money part) is that it is a 4th floor walk-up. That's a pretty big downside, in my opinion, but compared to other places I saw, this one is a frickin' palace. Manhattan apartments are ridiculous. But I have no choice. I am addicted to Manhattan like some people are addicted to crack.

So congratulate me. Now I can move back into Manhattan, and I can reunite with my beloved cat, Rocky!!! Yahoo!!!!

Unless my application doesn't go through.

Naah, that won't happen.

<praying>