On Sunday, I went to Long Island City and saw an apartment that was so hideous I wouldn’t feel comfortable having a goldfish live there much less my dog, Phineas. It was a second-floor walk-up for $1800 on a street that I am fairly certain could be renamed crack alley. After giving the dim-witted broker a piece of my mind, I high-tailed it back to the subway as fast as my legs would carry me. I had two choices: I could cry or write. So I wrote this: “I will find a way to put this stress to use. I am on a treasure hunt and at the end of it, Phin and I will find a great place to settle in. It will be worth it.”
Christa Avampato 