Around this time, my parents show up, we empty The Commune of furniture, and shit gets real.
My parents live in Washington state and have visited us once before in New York. Our apartment, as I may have mentioned, was perfect in every way (except it didn’t have an elevator, sorry Dad). It was especially perfect in that it was located in the West Village of New York City in tree-covered solitude. It was a great place for my parents first visit to the Big Apple two years ago and we saw and did a lot of really fun things.
This time we asked them to delay their visit once (our boat will certainly be up here by mid-July!) and then rented them an apartment on AirBNB. It was not ideal. They had to walk 1/4 mile to the light rail station, take that to the PATH, take the PATH into New York then find their way around. My Better Half and I had taken so much time off recently doing boaty things that we couldn’t take any more time off when they were here. Sorry Mom and Dad, we will show you a better time next visit…
On The Commune front, AllesGirl and HerSpouse had been steadily selling furniture until we had an exercise ball, a straight-backed chair and two floor pillows left to sit on. Packing boxes were our tables. Our bed, their bed, the couch, the leather armchair, the table, the hutch… all gone for Moving-On-Out money. Convenient for living, not so convenient for Living in.
We had moments of Communal panic. Me: where are we going to live? My Better Half: how is the boat going to get up here? AllesGirl and HerSpouse: why did we decide to do this? As a matter of fact, those moments of panic were pretty interchangeable amongst all Commune Members at some point. All in all it was a fun and relaxing time…
Sailing Devilfish 