Some Things I Will Miss About Miami

Ask Brooke if she had any reservations about leaving Miami and as soon as she stops laughing in your face she'll say, "No. Nada. Nyet." Brooke wanted out of Florida like it was some giant beachfront prison camp. We would have fights all the time because I would say something like, "This pizza is pretty good," and she would reply, "IT IS NOT. It's good for Miami. This pizza couldn't suck New York pizza's dick." She felt strongly about leaving.

I was a bit more ambiguous. While Brooke would land at JFK, step up to the exhaust filled taxi stand, take a deep breath and smile, I immediately felt my blood pressure rise just from catching a glimpse of the skyline out the plane window. I'd run over elderly people on my way out of the plane, because in New York if someone gets from Point A to Point B faster than you, you lose.

Don't get me wrong – I'm happy (nay, ecstatic) to be here now, but that doesn't mean that there aren't things I will miss about Miami.

My nice apartment. I've accepted the fact that I will never live in a nicer apartment than I did when I left Miami. I mean, delivery men would compliment my apartment! Coming from a long line of New York shitholes, the last time anyone complimented an apartment of mine was when, after an ill-advised attempt to "get to know my neighbors" my sophomore year of college, I invited over the girl across the hall for drinks. While sitting on my couch, awkwardly sipping a beer, realizing very quickly that we hated each other, she commented, "Nice place" – the most backhanded of compliments considering the fact that we had the same exact apartment, except mine was decorated better. You could just hear it in her voice: "Nice place. I would have spent more time decorating mine, but I've been so busy banging dudes who sleep on air mattresses."

On the plus side . . . We didn't have to buy any furniture for the new apartment because we already had the three pieces needed to fill it.

The Beach. I don't have any case study to reference because that's not my style, but someone somewhere once told me that some Asian scientists did a study where they hooked up people to brain wave machines and sat them down on the beach looking out over the ocean and all sorts of pleasure centers lit up – ones that normally are only activated through things like extreme fighting and intercourse. Sure, there's some holes in my research. I don't know where they plugged in the brain wave machines on the beach. But the point is, the study was conducted by Asian scientists – the same ones who engineered the Opening Ceremony of the 2008 Summer Games. So obviously it's true.

On the plus side . . . It's nice to have sidewalks again, because sometimes it's like, "I just wish there was some concrete so I knew where I was allowed to walk."

Lower Cost of Living. I'm no Republican, but if New York is going bankrupt and has state income tax and Florida isn't going bankrupt and doesn't have state income tax, then isn't New York doing something wrong? I mean, where's all my money going? To trash collection? Libraries? Central Park? Schools? Police? Firemen? Street cleaning? Museums?

On the plus side . . . My wallet was getting so heavy!

Working From Home. We've been over this, but I can't emphasize enough how suited I am for working from home. This isn't to say that I don't relish each and every one of the coworkers with whom I now share office space (especially the ones who read this blog), but if home is where the heart is, and I should be putting my heart into my work, then I'd much rather not have to carry my heart in a messenger bag with a magazine, iPod, and meatloaf sandwich the 20 blocks to an office, where you're not even allowed to have a bed let alone work in one. And don't even get me started on drinking at you're desk. They're practically Draconian about that.

On the plus side . . . I've started flossing for meetings.

Filtered Water . . . From My Refrigerator! So you know how lower middle class people have Brita filters? Well I had a water filtration system BUILT INTO my refrigerator. It even dispensed ice cubes made of filtered water.

You can't possibly understand the joys of clean ice and water on demand until it is taken away from you and you are forced to use poisoned tap-water ice and a Brita, which is always empty but it's such a pain to refill that you just stand in front of the refrigerator and enjoy a few mouthfuls of saliva instead.

On the plus side . . . There's a water dispenser at work, so I get most of my hydration done there.

Rainbows. Do you know what happens when there's a rainbow in New York? Someone buys it. And then they charge people to look at it. And then Sex and the City mentions it in a movie and then rainbows are "the new hot thing." Then rainbows jump the shark and everyone thinks rainbows are lame and sunsets are the new rainbows.

On the plus side . . . Those rainbows that form when the light hits a puddle full of leaked gasoline just the right way is kind of the same thing.

Serotonin. Here are some jokes I wrote about my serotonin levels.

"My serotonin levels are so low I got a tax credit from the Obama administration."

"My serotonin levels are so low that Jon Gosselin looks down on them."

"My serotonin levels are so low that sometimes I stare deep into the black void that is my future and think that today is as good a day as any to just give up."

Ha?

On the plus side . . . Depression is like exercise for the soul.

Happy homeless people. The other day I was walking through the subway carrying Puppy (don't tell anyone) and we passed a deranged homeless guy pounding away on a Casio keyboard and kind of scream-moaning like he was very sad, and very angry about it. Then as Puppy and I walked past, he shouted, "What, you two don't like my music? You suck!" Really? My dog sucks for not liking your homeless guy music? Maybe if the lyrics were more like "Here Puppy, Puppy. Here's a treat for the good Puppy! Now let's go out and pee, ok?" he would have been a bit more receptive.

On the plus side . . . all the more motivation to not become homeless!

Having two bathrooms. I will look back on having two bathrooms as one of the best times in my life. Never having to wait for someone to finish, never having to worry that you're taking too long. It was a dream come true. I'm tearing up just thinking about it.

At least I'll be able to tell my kids grand stories of back when I had two bathrooms. "Artemis, Clementine," I'll say, as we stand in line outside the one bathroom in our apartment. "Once upon a time your father was somebody. I had two bathrooms. Full bathrooms, not halves. Showers and everything. I was living the dream!" And then Brooke will come out of the bathroom just as Artemis pees his pants. And Clementine will push him to the ground and run inside, slamming the door behind her. Then Brooke and I will lock gazes and she won't even have to say it. I'll know exactly what she's thinking as she looks at our poor, vulnerable son, curled up in the fetal position covered in urine. "We're not moving. No fucking way."