Archive for the ‘Apartment’ Category

I worked from home today because yesterday I was felled unexpectedly by a head cold.  Sneezing all day long, culminating in a stuffed-upedness at night that required a Kleenex shoved up one particularly clogged nostril so I could breathe properly out of the other.

In addition to working, I also did seven loads of laundry.  My relationship with my apartment building’s laundry room is mired in frustration and disappointment, and once again, the dryer on the right swallowed $1 before I finally gave up and moved my clothes to the middle dryer.  But at least I now have clean underpants.  Life is much better when you have clean underpants.

I’m not feeling much better, but I’ll be at work tomorrow.  While I was home, my company was victim to a new round of layoffs.  I’ve been assured that I still have my job, but I really don’t know what to expect tomorrow.  I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the economy is not doing very well.


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Arthur is right now sprawled out on top of a pile of clean laundry I have yet to put away, in part because I’m lazy and in part because it is Arthur’s favorite place to sleep when I’m working in bed.  (When I’m in the living room, he’s abandoned his cat condo for an old cardboard box top, which cost zero cents.  The condo cost $30!)

He’s entirely on his back right now, with his front paws stretched out to the side.  The cat is clearly comfortable here.

Meanwhile, I cannot get his diet right.  He’s had diarrhea, probably because I immediately put him on a diet of mostly dry food, which is what my mom fed our cats, but it turns out he was eating mostly wet food in his previous home.  I moved him back to wet food, and the diarrhea went away for a day, but now I’m mixing dry food back into the wet, and the diarrhea came back tonight.  I grew up with cats, but I never knew their stomachs were so delicate!  I need to get him in better shape before I go away next weekend, though my amazing brother has offered to take care of him while I’m gone, so I really won’t have to worry.

It is nice to have someone to worry about, though.

Oh, Arthur.  I didn’t realize how lonely I was in this big apartment all by myself until you came along!  I can’t wait until I fall asleep and you decide it’s time to relentlessy dig your claws into my neck and arms and suck on my duvet cover (the Internet tells me you were weaned too early).

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Laundry day.

When I moved into this apartment, I thought I’d hit a goldmine. Laundry in the building! No more lugging seven loads of laundry (because I always put it off till I absolutely have to do it) to the laundromat in the morning so they could have it ready for me when I got home from work, inevitably ruining a piece of clothing or losing a sock in every batch. I thought: I’ll just do my laundry as I need to do it, and it’ll be so convenient! I’m even on the first floor, so I’ll only have to take the elevator for a quick ride down to the basement!

Ugh. Laundry is such a nightmare here. There are four washers and three dryers for a 100-unit building, and the laundry room is only open from 9 a.m. till 7 p.m., meaning anyone with a 9-to-6 (when did it stop being a 9-to-5 anyway?) has to do laundry on the weekends. The machines are old, and the room is dirty. Today, one of the washers (I used all four) didn’t spin my load, so it came out sopping wet. One of the dryers is broken, and another one swallowed three quarters without registering them.

The real bummer is that there’s not even a laundromat convenient to me here. At least in the old place, the laundromat was on the way to the train. In retrospect, it was pretty easy just to drop off the clothes and let someone else do all the work.

In other news, Arthur’s amazing, and I woke up this morning to find that he’d finally pooed in his litter box. I was so worried last night that he kept eating and eating and wasn’t using the potty! We’ve had a lovely day together of sleeping (him, not me) and eating and watching a couple of mediocre movies. He’s so exhausted from it all, he just collapsed next to me on the couch and fell right asleep. Again. Take a load off, Arthur!

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Introducing Arthur.

My lovely foster cat arrives this weekend! His name is Tiny, but I plan to call him Arthur, unless by some strange stroke of Genius Cat Syndrome the guy actually responds to his name.

Meet Arthur:

Before he arrives (not yet sure exactly when), I need to pick up food, litter and all of that for the little dear. Then hopefully he will be OK with a laid-back three-day weekend of eating, sitting around being lazy and sleeping.

OMG. Cats and I have so much in common!

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I am getting far enough along in my apartment-settling process that I might be willing to post a few pictures soon. In the past two days, I’ve made huge progress in the living room. Last night I moved the bookshelves (which I acquired in my last apartment from the people moving out) that were flanking the TV to the adjoining wall. They now flank the window, but I might surrender one to Chris, who has been talking about getting another bookshelf since I met him. I think sometimes symmetry can be overrated. Also, and this is pretty amazing, I seem not to have enough stuff to fill my shelves.

Or my drawers. I finally have enough drawers! Chris has suggested perhaps I need to get another dresser to house all of the drawers I’m not using.

Tonight I organized my NYU papers. I need to buy new file folders and then file them away until I decide I’m ready to revise (I thought today, I’m getting close!). And Chris was a real trouper and helped me move a table. He was exhausted, but I asked nicely, and technically it was his idea that I get a table in the first place. It makes a big difference in the living room, since there was just too much empty wall space before. And this table is smallish, but it expands to twice its size. You know what that means. Dinner parties!

This weekend, I finish putting everything away, and then I begin to decorate. Oh, and I watch the Game.

I’m talking about the Puppy Bowl, of course. Piper the Parrot’s singing the national anthem this year!

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photo by PLBG Design

I am having an ongoing battle with the shower curtain at the gym.  I for some reason have chosen a favorite shower stall.  I do not like to shower in any other stall, though for the sake of cleanliness, I will, if my stall is occupied.  Perhaps it’s because it’s the first stall I used at that gym.  Perhaps it’s because it’s at the end of the row and so does not share its hook with another stall.  Who can tell, really?

The shower curtain in this stall, though, will not stay put!  It keeps blowing inside my stall and touching my legs, and this drives me insane.  I found myself this morning kicking it repeatedly–and violently!–and growing increasingly frustrated as it insisted on blowing right back into the stall at me after every kick.  I started growling at it!  I swore at it, even.  You could not have convinced me at that moment that this shower curtain was not on purpose blowing into my stall just to irritate me.   The shower room at my gym is no wind tunnel!   There’s no open window to create a draft!  How else would this curtain be blowing into me if not of its own volition?

Tomorrow I will not choose this shower stall.  I will try another one, in the opposite row.  Perhaps this mysterious breeze will not work in the reverse direction.

This battle, however, did not compare to my battle this evening when, upon arriving home from my tutoring job (grad school loans to pay!) I happened upon a cockroach in my kitchen–my first cockroach in the new place. This was not one of the baby cockroaches I had at my old third-floor apartment, which really didn’t bother me much.  No, this visitor to my new first-floor digs was a full-sized pest, and I screamed into the phone and did my customary hopping-on-tiptoes dance that I do when faced with roach or mouse or cricket.  My poor mother saw me through the slaying of the roach.  She suggested I use a shoe, but that brought me too close to the thing, so I used the broom instead.  As I had earlier with the curtain, I hit that roach over and over again, and I’ll be darned–unlike the curtain, it eventually stayed put!

New York, I have mixed feelings about you.  You bring me pizza unlike any other city’s.  You bring me Restaurant Week.  You bring me Chris.  But you also bring me cockroaches. Have I angered you by venturing, as I so rarely do, above 23rd Street today? Have I upset you that I only try your finest dining establishments when I can get an affordable prix fixe (and on my anniversary, of course)? What can I do to ensure you don’t show me your more vile side again? Please, my dear city, keep them roaches away from me!

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