Movin' On Up

So I have finally arrived back at my parents' place after 10 days in Miami. It actually took that long to get things settled down there, but it was a fruitful journey--in that amount of time down there, I managed to find an apartment that I adore and a new, promising job. Two things that I've never been able to accomplish over my six years in New York. Things, as they say, are falling into place seamlessly in South Florida. My new pad--fingers crossed I get "board approval" by that elusive entity known as the condo board--rocks. Huge balcony with sweeping bay views, fabulous condo building on a private island, granite kitchen, washer and dryer in the unit, on the same floor as the gym and the pool, 1 and 1/2 marble bathrooms (with, God knows why, a bidet), dining room, walk in closets, and hurricane shutters, which I am told is quite a boon. The best part is that the building is literally right nextdoor to my best friend's building. The worst part? No Wally. That's right, Wally is not welcome. By the time the "board" alerted me to this fact--that renters are not allowed dogs, only owners--I was too in love with the apartment to give it up. So Wally will be residing with the 'rents and their two dogs until I decide I miss him too much.

This is precisely why I know I shouldn't procreate; I'm willing to give up my 10-year-old baby in lieu of a fat pad. I barely gave it a second thought, actually, as I was prepared for this scenario, and frankly, could use a break from the incessant barking and squeaky-toy noises.

So now all that's left, essentially, is to hire the movers, get a car and say good-bye to my NYC peeps. I'm not going to do the whole big going away party thing, as I think it would be too emotional. I move in April 4th and will be out of Manhattan by March 29th. And I have to admit that while I was in Florida for the past two weeks, I have not missed Manhattan at all. Not in the least bit, actually, because while you guys were donning 30 pounds of clothing just to walk the dog or go to the bodega, I was chilling in my bikini at the pool, looking at the water and reading a book. I was walking around in flip-flops, tank tops, jeans, sandals and the like, even at night, even at Neiman's. It's quite liberating.

Oh, and did I mention that my new place, with the most awesome balcony and view EVER is more than $500 less a month than my rodent-infested, shoebox studio on the Upper East Side? And that the rent includes cable TV? And that I never spent more than $40 out at night when I was there, including food?

I am a little worried about the men down there, though. My single friends keep telling me how much the guys there suck, but, what the hell? It's not like I've met any good ones in New York. I am back tomorrow in Manhattan, pretty much just tying up loose ends until it's time for the move. Cannot. Fucking. Wait.