Payday is but a week away at my new job. President’s Day is observed there. A three day weekend is all I see, and finally, a steady income begins again.
It’s time to move to a new apartment. The only thing better than a new job, is a fresh place to run home to. Everywhere in Brooklyn, hardware store purchased orange and black ‘FOR RENT’ signs adorn the tall, streak-free windows of brownstones and wooden houses that are so common here.
For years, the only way to find a new apartment in New York City was through an expensive real estate agent. Landlords could afford to be choosy, and often, they demanded high credit scores. Now, credit scores are like big banks.
I’ve been living in a dump for far too long. The days of real estate brokers are gone, and again, it pays to rent, not to own.
The ‘college graduates’ who took over this town during the Clinton Administration—the lefty, educated elite making six figures have been moving out of popular, pricey neighborhoods like Brooklyn Heights and Park Slope. I see them everywhere I go—movers—those getting out of here because without six figures, New York is really not worth it.
Get out! Run home to that little town in middle-America; for without a job, you’ll not survive, much longer than a year here.
Your place is mine! Leave the keys in the door. I got a job and get paid for President’s Day.