Less than two weeks ago, our landlords told us they were selling the building, and to kindly GTFO ASAP, and many other acronyms as well.
We’re waiting to hear about an apartment, and hopefully it will work out, because Adam and I have very different ideas about what constitutes a dream home.
Adam’s dream home:
Basically, Mr. Burns’ house from “The Simpsons.” Bonus points if it comes with dogs and/or a vengeful spirit. He likes this place because:
1. It’s big enough so that we can be alone whenever we want, even if there are people over.
2. Lots of space for video games and/or vintage apparel.
3. Additional bonus points if the neighborhood resembles a demilitarized zone.
My dream home:
Basically, the Plaza, circa Eloise. I like this because:
1. Doormen and other attendants mean that I never have to either do anything for myself, or ever forget how special I am.
2. Gym in the building means that there’s a 32 percent chance that I might actually work out.
3. Often a bar nearby.
You see the problem. Please, everyone, send your good energy into this place that we’re waiting on right now. Otherwise, we’re going to have to move into the Addam’s Family House. It’s the only place that boasts genuine opportunity for terror and doormen.