Neighbors

Like many New Yorkers, I reside in a walkup building...a 6-floor walkup building crammed between two other walkup buildings. The building feels a little lopsided and disheveled, like most, but it could have something to do with the kitchen fire that occured on the top floor before I moved in. Yep, an old man fell asleep while cooking soup.

{word to the wise: get renters insurance.}

The entry hallway is so narrow that you must stand sideways to let someone pass you coming the other direction, a maneuver that proves to be quite awkward when carrying luggage, dry cleaning, groceries, or a large abandoned shelf you've decided to adopt.

I may not know any of their names, but I still know (what I consider to be) a lot about my neighbors. In my first apartment, I befriended a guy and babysat his Teacup Yorkie until he couldn't get it through his head that I wasn't interested in being his girlfriend or therapist.  The family across the hall was a little frightening as they fought all the time, but they did let us climb out their bedroom window to break into our apartment if we locked our keys inside, which was a big plus.

My current building? I know that the woman across the hall prefers to run in the evenings and I know that the other person on my floor cooks something that smells absolutely horrific every Sunday. (Seriously dude, what the hell are you eating?) I know that the man who lives beneath me won a season of "Top Design" on Bravo and that I often daydream about his living room decor that I can spy through the first floor window.

Another thing that I know about my neighbors? I know that the people above me do not go to bed until after midnight. From what I can tell of their nightly ritual, they promptly and consistently begin rearranging furniture in 4-inch heels at 11:00PM. Ya know, after the dance routine and before the sword fight. I'm a night owl myself, but when I have a cold (like now - harumph!), I'd really like to get to sleep on the early side. I haven't been so lucky this week, unfortunately.

Also, Super Mario has been out of the country the past few weeks and doesn't return until the twelfth. Between a leak behind my toilet (that the landlord insists will be fixed today after two weeks of empty promises) and burned-out ceiling lights that I can't reach even on my ladder, my apartment life is literally falling apart without him. If I look a little disheveled (like my building) today, it's because I most definitely got ready in the dark.

Cheers to old smelly apartment buildings, cheers to supers that need to come home, and cheers to neighbors that may or may not be receiving a "can you please try to be quiet?" anonymous note. ;)

until next time,

g