Sign it in Blood, Might as Well

I don't write much about real estate, because angles on the subject in these parts are dull and predictable (mostly consisting of subtly different variations on a series of guttural moans), but today I signed a lease for a new apartment, and I can't think of a moment -- even including the many daily subway indignities -- that more inspires me to head for the hills. (I don't mean that metaphorically; I mean very specifically the hills of upstate New York.)

Anyway, I'll spare you the gory details. The fact is, it's a charming apartment in a great area; I just wish I didn't have to pay half my salary to take up residence, it being one room and all.

But one detail, short on the gory and long on the absurd, before I go. My favorite part of the lease is paragraph 28 -- of 39, which take up nearly four pages of tiny type:

Tenant has read this Lease. All promises made by the Landlord are in this Lease. There are no others.

Nope, no other promises. Just the ones here; the ones about sending you butt-first to the curb if you paint anything or make any funny noises or sleep curled up on your side instead of flat on your back.

Life in New York. You can't beat it.