I don’t wanna

I found out on Wednesday that my landlords are selling the building I live in.

I can’t blame them. The husband, an older man, has been having trouble keeping up with the place. And doctors just discovered a malignant tumor in his colon. Plus, this place will sell for big money.

Right now we have a month-to-month arrangement. I agreed to go without a lease when we moved here (in October of 2001) because our rent is so low. But we live in a building with less than six units, and our place isn’t rent stabilized. And the new owner can set the rent at any rate he chooses.

Since the sale hasn’t gone through yet, the buyer (who runs the storefront downstairs) isn’t ready to say how much he’s charging.

So we may be moving in the next couple of months.

Ahhh, limbo.

I bitch about this neighborhood, but I feel connected to it. At the end of the day, I like living in Williamsburg. Unfortunately, so does everyone else.

Wasn’t there a band a few years ago called the Kenn Firpo Rent Explosion?*

* Tip for the uninitiated: always ignore the lowest price on a broker’s list. If the property ever existed, it was probably rented months before, to the broker’s best friend.


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