Unlike all the other times I’ve gone missing here for days, this time I have a good reason (or “excuse” as most of my ex-girlfriends would call it, probably with the air quotes because that’s the kind of girls I dated in college).
First off, it was a short week because of the bullshit holiday. Not that I’m complaining because I got the day off of work, but I’ve been reading a very spiritual book lately and it has me sour on all things secular. And what could possibly be more secular than a holiday celebrating work? At its core, Labor Day is the government’s way of saying, “You’re working too hard just to survive, so here’s 1/365th of a year to catch up on some much needed rest. But not if you work at Circuit City – then you still have to go.” I guess it’s your fault if you work at Circuit City, the same way it’s your fault if you are homeless. But my point is, all Labor Day does is reinforce the already popular notion that work sucks and barbecued hot dogs don’t.
So I was dealing with all of this when I remember that one of my closest friends from high school is getting married this weekend. Plus the first football game of the new season was this week and my fantasy team needs work. Then I got an email from the Children's Tumor Foundation inviting me to their 4th Annual Benefit and I’m like “There’s so much to do!” and also “You couldn’t come up with a better name than the Children’s Tumor Foundation?” Maybe “The Foundation for Children with Tumors”? Just something to really drive home the point that we’re here for the children, not the tumors. Because I have to be honest, it’s a little unclear.
Best and busiest of all, though, is the big news. It’s life changing, and honestly it’s not anything I thought I would be doing this soon in life. But it’s not the kind of thing you can fight – when you feel it, you feel it. So here it goes . . .
I’m moving to Brooklyn.
If you thought I was going to say I was engaged (without following it with other words like “in a fistfight”) clearly you don’t know my well enough. Not that I wouldn’t get engaged, but that if I did I wouldn’t announce it like this. There would be some animated graphic of a puppy riding on another puppy’s back, maybe in a saddle, and the puppy on top would be saying, in a cute puppy/human voice “We’re getting married!” Anyone who knows me is ashamed to know this is true.
But yes, I am moving to Brooklyn. And the best part (besides the back yard garden) is that Brooke will be living there too. Meaning that if you put me next to Brooke in the back yard garden, my head might explode in a New York City real estate love triangle. I’m so excited I could puke, which would be OK because you can do that in back yard gardens and then the rain, like nature’s janitor, washes it away.
Anyone who has ever looked for an apartment in New York will understand that the search hasn’t been easy. One of the things that makes Brooke and I work so well together is our silent understanding that, when faced with a daunting task, the first thing we should do is give it a day and see if the situation resolves itself. It’s not being lazy, per se, it is, as I imagine we both understand it, just plain old good reasoning. Why go on a strenuous apartment hunt when maybe someone will call you up tomorrow and be like, “Hey, I’ve got this great apartment I can’t use. Any chance you want it?” It’s a philosophy that says, “If you want it you have to earn it, but maybe sometimes you don’t.”
And honestly, it almost happened this time. the apartment we will be living in starting later this month was only the second apartment we looked at. Granted, it did take a little work. After we found it on Craigslist last week, the broker informed us that they wouldn’t be showing the apartment until after Labor Day weekend. Being white, we are used to getting what we want, so we did an intense search of the internet to find all other listings that seemed to be for the same apartment. Finally, the fifth broker we called (and the least promising) picked up the phone and told us that he was actually good friends with the owner of the apartment, so if we wanted to get in to see it over the weekend we could.
There you have it. A minimal amount of work paid off when we were the first people to see it, the first people to love it, and the first people to apply for it. Consequently we will be the first people to have sex in the (did I mention this already?) back yard garden.
Obviously there’s much more to the story – like when we first met the broker and he grabbed Brooke’s arm telling her she looked “like Terri Hatcher – but you know when she was on “Superman,” oh yeah she was hot.” But I’m off now to go sign a lease.
After which time I guess I will be living in Brooklyn.
I don’t think I understood what that means until I just said it.
TO BE CONTINUED