I'm moving out.....

I’m moving out….

Yeah, the Billy Joel song is in your head now too, right? Anthony worked at....I forget the lyrics...

By the fall of 2002 I was ready to move out on my own. 

I was nearly 29 by then and, as much as I loved my parents, and my big house, I knew the time had come for Tyler and I to branch out on our own.  Not to mention my parents had by that point become “snowbirds” or “snowflakes,” whichever is the term for aging Jewish New Yorkers who spend their winters in Florida. They were gone for months at a time, so I got to play the part of being self sufficient, and, much to my surprise, Tyler and I didn't starve!

My parents were talking more and more seriously about selling the house and living full time in Florida.  My mother was sick of New York, and my father had semi-retired. Their friends were more and more in Florida and they loved the lifestyle. As much as they would have preferred I move with them (actually my mother would have preferred if I never left the house) I always knew I would stay in New York.  I have a love/hate relationship with New York (don’t we all) but since Chinese food and bagels aren't any good anywhere else, I decided to stay put.

“Ma, Pop, I’m going to look at apartments with my friend.” I said to them on my way out one weekday evening while they were having dinner in November, 2002.

“Dan-yul, you’re what??” My mother almost spat her dinner out at me.

“Yeah, it’s time to go. I'm almost 30. I love you both but I need my own place. I’m working, I can swing it, and my friend Mark might split it with me, at least for first 6 months to a year.”

"What about Tyler?" My mother asked.

"He'll come with me, of course." As if there were any other possible answer.

"Won't Tyler mind going from a house to a small apartment?" My mother, trying to turn on the guilt. 

"He's a cat, I doubt he would mind." 

As if on cue, Tyler looked up at us from his dinner bowl.  He squinted and went back to his Fancy Feast.

Nope.  He could give a shit, as long as I was there.

"See?  All he knows is he is eating his savory salmon flavor." His then favorite variety of wet food.

“Well, don’t sign anything without my looking at it first” My father warned.  He said that about any “major deal” I worked on. Not that I was working on major deals, but you know what I mean.  He always needed to review.  You can take the man out of the office…..

“Gotcha.  See ya later.” With that Mark and I were off to look at apartments.  The first 2 were both too small and too expensive, and there was a realtor fee, so fuck that.  I'll doubt I'll ever be a land baron, but even then I know about realtor fees.

Our third apartment viewing of the night was a lead my then boss had given me.  I was at that point running a small village museum in Sea Cliff, the small town on the North Shore of Long Island that time had very much forgot.  She knew the landlord of this small complex of affordable two- bedroom apartments in Glen Cove, which was actually the next town over from Sea Cliff.  Not quite as hidden or a time-warp, but still somewhat off the beaten path.

We liked. 

It was cute, it had 2 decent sized bedrooms, a MASSIVE kitchen, it had closet space, basement storage, and it was something the two of (at least at the time) thought we could afford.  

Count us in! 

We filled out the application, did another walk through, and we drove off to get some dinner, hopeful that we would pass the credit check required for the apartment.

Following a somewhat filling dinner at Ruby Tuesdays, I came home to find Tyler sleeping on my bed.

“What would you think of us getting our own place?” I asked him, while scratching his chin and enjoying his consistently loud purr.

"It wouldn't be as big, but it would be ours.  You and me.  You in old man?"

He closed his eyes, kept purring, and put a front paw on my arm and gently kneaded.

Keep scratching my chin.  I don't care about anything else.

Sounded like a yes to me.  Glen Cove or bust!