OKAY, I LIED. SUE ME.
January, 2021. NYC touts its toughness and willingness to reopen. Like de Blasio and Cuomo, the city talks a good game.
Succumbed to the inevitable. Yes. We are back in New York City, and it has even more of the dystopian charm it had when I drove away on August 8, 2020.
Since the last posting, much has happened.
America elected a House Plant as President, and a really cool, hip, half-White babe as Veep. There are drawbacks to installing someone with the IQ of a Rhododendron in the highest office in the land, not to mention a VP whose finest qualification is her wet mouth, but there are enough depressing elements in returning to Gotham.
The national stupidity is another issue.
The apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan felt claustrophobic after five months in spacious homes with backyards. We opted to look for a larger space since rents plummeted in our absence.
Wish us luck. There are only about a zillion units on the market, and our lease expires April 1. Will remain on the West Side with the OCD-suffering Left.
Time for more space if we have to put up with the ongoing stupidity.
We engaged the services of the world’s greatest real estate agency and ubermensch, Chase Safarowic.
The search starts immediately.
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