We finally found it. We went through three different Realtors/brokers to get it, but the lease is signed and our sleep is at last peaceful. Our new apartment is over on Sixty-somthing street and near the Lincoln Center! Most importantly, ladies and gentlemen, it has a very attractive deck. (Hopefully, the "Pitching his tents" pastor will never have to utter that last sentence near a church.)
Not only does our new apartment have a deck, it has a... (drum roll)... BEDROOM. That's right, a bedroom. However, we will be using the bedroom area as a much-needed office. (Our couch quickly pulls out into an incredibly comfortable bed- with an inflatable top mattress- for those of you that are wondering the grown up thoughts.) Unfortunately, we still don't have room to amply accommodate a guest, so don't get any ideas... all ye long lost relatives. Oh, I suppose we could cram a bed in there, we are too chinchy to go buy another bed right now... Truth is, the food is just too darn scrumfriggindilliocious in this town to waste our money on an extra bed. Plus, we're used to the pull-out bed. Enough about my bed already.
Another nifty thing about our new apartment is that it has a LARGE open storage compartment above the kitchen. I took one look at that compartment and thought, "Hey, that could easily sleep a tall man." Then I explained to the broker and my wife that "in the next few years, if something goes awry in the world, and the U.S. finds itself in a some kind of world war, and the Wards are forced to offer shelter to a refuge NBA basketball player, we'll be totally set to give the poor, tall dribbler a safe place to rest his weary head and size 12 feet." (You're right, I didn't really say that. And I'm glad I didn't. 'Cause that's what blogs are for: To type your bad jokes, horribly arrogant opinions, and/or dumbest thoughts and call them "writing.")
For now, the cubbyhole above the kitchen will serve as a home for the two guitars and other items that I can't seem to turn loose of. Like my Irish shillelagh.. And my collection of clipped toenails... Did anyone watch that on American Idol last night? That seriously gagged me. And I'm not one to be seriously gagged that easily. The only thing that gags me more is when wives pop their husband's zits. My gag reflex trembles thinking about it.
Back to the non-toenail and zit thoughts... The picture you see is the view from our back deck.