By Brooklyn Bill
On Thursday, I signed a lease for a wonderful one-bedroom apartment in the West Village. I'm so psyched to be moving to a queerer and cooler New York neighborhood.
I will have lived in my current place in Park Slope for five years next month, and even though I think PS is terrific in many ways, as the date to renew my lease approached, I couldn't escape the feeling that it was time for a change.
This apartment is just what I needed: It's on the second floor, which means it won't be that much of a hassle for my new dog walker and me to carry Emme, my 15-year-old corgi, up and down stairs. It's in the rear of the building and on what seems to be a quiet block of Charles Street, so noise shouldn't be a factor, unless my neighbors suck. The bedroom is large enough to accommodate my kingsize bed; the two hotties I routinely share it with will be glad to know they won't have to settle for crowding onto a double. And it's got a dishwasher, which I was going to hold out for regardless of how much I liked an otherwise fantastic apartment—and the added bonus of a clothes washer and dryer, right in the unit. And lastly, the building has a communal roof deck with lots of established plants and room for me to add a few more.
I feel like I hit the jackpot with this place. Watch out, West Village! Here I come!