Well, I had to make the bold yet appropriate decision to move into a new apartment — one that has heat, gas, and whose ceiling won’t leak and collapse on me while I sleep. I truly loved that old apartment on Bedford Avenue, thinking that it’d be the last place I lived in New York before leaving the city for good. It was perfect till it wasn’t, and the compounding problems only cascaded into a miserable and potentially life-threatening situation. I had no logical choice but to break a two-year lease that I had signed in August, abandoning the place I called home for the last 4 years. Fingers crossed I get my full deposit back.
Fun fact: according to my neighbors who continued to live in the building, the landlord had the gas and heat restored three days after I officially moved out.
Anyway, let’s move on, shall we?
The new apartment is much better and, of course, much warmer. In fact, it’s so much warmer that there are days I have to open the windows in the middle of winter; it’s such a weird and confusing situation when you compare it to the circumstance surrounding the Bedford apartment. The rent at the new apartment is slightly less than what I paid for at the last place (bonus points, and I’d like to thank my realtor friend Brett who helped me find this place so quickly), is bigger, has better natural lighting, and has a second bedroom that I’d use as an office/Dusty’s own playroom. My TV is even separated from my work area, so I’m not watching as much Cable news (and my friend Brian would say that might be good for my mental health). With the pandemic raging into its first year and a lot of New Yorkers abandoning the city, I got a great deal on an otherwise expensive apartment. They say sticking through the hard times will yield some sort of reward, but holy fuck has it been a craptastic year for me. This new place (along with adopting Dusty) feels like compensation for all the emotional, physical (like freezing my ass off), and financial suffering I went through in 2020.
In regards to COVID-19, I’ve received my first dose of the Pfizer vaccine. With my high blood pressure as a pre-existing condition, I was in one of the early eligible groups to get the shot — or as I call it, a Fauci Ouchie. I suppose my smoking and high stress living/working/money situation grotesquely and morbidly paid off (just thinking about my shitty life a year or even a few months ago and how it is now brings me a sense of relief). I really want to see my parents in California (who’ve been vaccinated for a while), and getting vaccinated myself brings me one step closer to seeing them again.
The shot itself was administered at a local college gym by FEMA soldiers, and it hurt compared to some other vaccines/shots/blood tests I’ve had it the past. I chalked it up to some young, inexperienced kids in uniform as opposed to the gentle touch of a nurse or doctor. As for side effects, my arm is sore, but I haven’t experienced anything else. I can’t wait for the second dose so the Deep State can eventually track me when I go to Taco Bell. At least, I’m sure, my cellphone coverage can handle 5G now by the sheer proximity of my Pfizer-branded microchip.
All in all, 2021 is starting to look positive (and yeah, we got rid of Trump), so cheers to some new beginnings.