Holy crap! "The median price of a Manhattan apartment clocked in at $725,000." -- Curbed
My husband, Mr. Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, has filled out an application. So begins the race.
$5.00, he'll ask me for the massive amounts of paperwork you need to get approved.
You do know that we haven't put our apartment on the market yet, either. We're not sure how fast it will sell nor do we know if subletting is the way to go. Just in case Pantrygirl finds living in cramped quarters a little too claustrophobic for her spoiled ass. I'm wondering how many strange hits I'm going to get for 'spoiled ass'.
This does not deter Mr. GTT. Rather, this invigorates him in the knowledge that we won't be doing the mad rush of moving out and moving in we did last February.
Alas, the denial & bargaining ends. Thus begins the whiny phase. Tomorrow I begin the great hunt for boxes at supermarkets.
I know opposites attract, but this is really going to kill me if I need to do this the rest of my life.
Where I weigh and debate, Lrudlrick goes head on. Don't get me wrong, he does contemplate. I just contemplate longer, like more than two weeks.
I suppose if we went on my pace, we'd never be able to move forward. I just perpetually feel as if the rug is being pulled from under me w/Lrudlrick.
He's always running and I'm always trying to catch up.
It's not as bad as it sounds but it can be very tiring. This travellin' show wagon is getting bigger and bigger every year.
I'm off to Staples to buy my 2005 moving notebook and get me a bottle of doctor good.
BTW, I have less than 4 days before they laser my frickin' eyes yet I'm too preoccupied with this impending move to be nervous. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.