"Susie and the City" to Return!

Within two weeks I'll be back in New York. This wondrous realization prompted me to pop my Sinatra CDs in the player. Thank god I hadn't packed them yet. In the past couple weeks I managed to pack most of my belongings, stack them up in a storage unit, sell some furniture, give a bunch of stuff to charity, and still leave the house in a "lived-in" condition for showings.

I can't get out of Maryland and away from my crazy neighbors (on both sides of my townhouse) fast enough. Things have only gone from bad to worse here.

I'm desperately trying to find temporary furnished housing in Manhattan. Let me tell you, this is no easy chore. For two solid weeks I was assured that I had a studio sublet in Battery Park. The tenant kept telling me not to worry, that the apartment was definitely mine and that I could move into it in September before my job starts on October 1. She kept telling me via email that she was taking care of minor details with the building owner and that I had nothing to worry about. Her response time to emails and voice mails was snail-like, so I was in fact worried.

Last week I emailed her and told her I had started to look for a different place since she hadn't fully committed to me yet. I guess that is when she finally got serious about talking to the building people. Come to find out that she'd never actually checked with the building before posting her ad on Craigslist, and sublets aren't allowed. I just about died. And she was so nonchalant about it - despite practically ruining my life.

This was after 11pm one night. The next morning the professional figure skater who'd been telling me all month that she was going to buy my townhouse finally told me she wasn't going to make me an offer after all. And I had to drag that information out of her. She'd been stringing me along all month (just like the girl with the phantom sublet), despite not being able to afford anything near the price range of the townhouses where I live.

Double whammy.

Things continued to escalate that day and included a fight with my neighbor about her multiple covenants violations that were ruining our property values and quality of life here in the overpriced community where we live. That morning she'd paid a bunch of day laborers to put up this ugly chicken wire fence around her grass out in front of her unit - all in a vain effort to keep a ficticious dog out that was allegedly killing every square inch of her [diseased] grass.

Not only was this so-called fence--(consisting of wooden stakes and chicken wire held on with plastic cable ties)--completely against our HOA rules, but it was an eye-sore, and the idiots who installed it made a mess of my driveway. I just couldn't believe these horrible neighbors would go this far, especially after illegally cementing in their entire 30' long back yard last spring and installing a full-size basketball court for me to have to listen to and look at - something completely prohibited by our by-laws. This ugly chicken wire thing was too much.

So that day it really seemed like my life was completely falling apart. . . nothing new here in the state of Maryland, which has been unkind to me since I set foot here. But let's put that behind us and fast forward to New York!

I can't wait to get back to living amongst wonderful New Yorkers - those abrupt yet genuine folks who would do anything to help a stranger or neighbor.

Yesterday, after losing yet another wonderful sublet (this one was on Wall Street) because I couldn't physically get to it fast enough, tomorrow I am taking the train up to NY to look at some other places that are up for grabs. I have my whole day mapped out - two units downtown (John Street and then Pearl Street), followed by one on the Upper West Side (Central Park West and 97th), then back down to the East Village and Gramercy Park for two more.

As soon as I find the right place, I'll nab it on the spot (if they'll have me), and cancel the rest of my appointments. (Time for purse shopping on Canal Street, per chance?) I have high hopes for this studio on John Street - what they call a "Jr. 1BR." It's a studio apartment that has an "alcove" (as opposed to an enlcosed room) for the bed. It has an outdoor terrace (for Martin) and is on the 17th floor. It's walking distance to work (probably about 2/3 mile), and it is in a luxury doorman building like I used to live in at the Gershwin. It really would be perfect for the short term.

So, despite having lots of friends and families praying that I sell this townhouse, it hasn't quite happened yet. Maybe God has something better in mind for me - although I can't see how listing it with a realtor and paying over $25K in commissions can be considered "better" than selling it by owner and not losing nearly as much as I'm gonna lose when it lists. We'll see what happens. Wish me luck - I'm really gonna need it this week!

(And thank you for your prayers - please don't stop!)