Friday, June 13, 2008

MOVING DAY

I had found out about the apartment in a one line Craigslist ad. The description was simply that it was four bedrooms, and gave the address, price and e-mail account. It's not easy to find a four bedroom apartment in New York. (Well let's just face it, apartment hunting isn't exactly a joy to do anywhere. ) It had been even more difficult to get a hold of the owner to show me the place. Persistance had paid off, and after taking five steps in, I told him we'd take it.

Which meant that my other three roomates hadn't even seen the place, so the pressure was on me if they would like it or not. There was no time or money to waste, and waiting only means someone else will snatch it up in a heartbeat. So we've always agreed to trust each other's judgement.

So far, there’s been no problems.

The place was on the corner of 125th street. It used to be an old Turkish Bathhouse, and the sign still remains above the basement entrance (also known as the rat’s home turf). If the whole Turkish bath thing seems to be a little out of place to you, you’re not alone in thinking this.

The apartment was on the fourth floor, there was no elevator, and the moving crew we had hired (and paid for) did not show up. This left my tiny mother, overweight father, 12-year-old sister, Karla, Beth, and myself to move everything up the four flights of stairs. My mother, always the problem solver, started talking to some people on the street. In no time she had recruited a couple guys who had offered to help us with the "big stuff" for some quick cash.

Half an hour later, one of them christened our bathroom by puking all over the floor. He told us “not to eat the Taco Bell.” Bullshit. It was Saturday morning and he was clearly more hung over then we were. A friend of his came in as his replacement, and after a couple hours and an ass-load of trips up and down the stairs the Uhaul truck was empty.

My mother opted to take a time-out and introduce herself to all of the neighbors. She stopped by each and every apartment in the building to say hello. An hour later she reported back.
“You girls should see how the apartment across the hall is set up. He has the TV against that wall," she said and pointed around living room and trying to inspire us to re-arrange the furniture we has just spent the last 10 hours moving in and out. I told her we would re-arrange later, and consider moving the TV. Of course there was not a chance in this happening. It was staying right where it was.

"There is a really neat tapestry on the wall you should go see, Amber," she continued. The girl on the next floor up is a hair dresser, and the people down the hall are cooking something that smells amazing.”

I couldn’t love her more than at the moment. She was, 100%, a people-person.

1 Comments:

Blogger Ellis said...

I'm excited to see you are posting again.

12:17 AM  

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