Thursday, January 20, 2011

Raging materialism--call me Trump. Donald Trump.

Signing a lease has never been so empowering; shelling out $1,500 has never been so easy.

Dave and I just signed a lease--finally--for our new apartment. Most of you know that I am not terribly materialistic. I mean, I like nice things. Who doesn't, right? But when I first saw this place, I thought I would swoon. My knees got a little weak; I got a little...ahem, well, I should stop there.

Anyway, I will post pics in a bit. It's still not quite finished, so mess and dust abound, but holy penthouse jesus. 4 bedrooms, 5 baths, rooftop terrace, dining room, a sort of outdoor patio in the light well,'s probably as big as my childhood home. The building has a pool--or two--hot tub, sauna, gym, shops, restaurants that deliver fat Vietnamese food to your front door for $'s amazing. I had wanted my own 2-bedroom, but really, when am I going to have a chance to live in such splendor (or even splendour--the British spelling just looks so much classier, doesn't it?) again in my life? I feel like a mogul. Besides, if Dave and I want some time apart, the apartment is so goddamn big we don't have to see each other for weeks at a time if we don't want to. Even if we get a third housemate, as we are considering, space will not be an issue.

You all might want to block out your visits now. Once I post the pics, I expect the spare room(s) to fill up mighty quick.

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