serinde: (brew-up)
The general state of the state is...a state of flux, in nearly every corner of existence. I still don't have a peep back from the co-op board where I want to move; I'm following up on that as I can, but at the moment just trusting that it will happen (and trying to silence the shrieking in my skull). I'm packing that which I can right now--starting with the easy stuff, books and DVDs and fabric and so on--in a collection of boxes kindly gifted by [ profile] cobrawoman and [ profile] sedai, and others I dumpster-picked from the student caff downstairs. I've also made another leap of faith by commanding U-Haul to deliver some specialized boxes (dish barrel and glass packs) early this week; they ship UPS so it may even make it safely into the building, Deo volente.

I had some emotional pinwheeling that was really screaming in the inside of my head for the last couple of months, making me unable to sleep or concentrate, all that rotten business; but, for the third leap of faith, I've actually talked about it, like I was some kind of grownup or balanced, rational being or something. Nothing is different in a real or practical sense, but getting it out of my head and into the world has at least made me able to sleep again (though, like Macbeth, I may have murdered sleep for others, and I am grieved at that).

Work is good, actually, but I am pre-loading some worry and strain. Next month is going to be a right bastard; I have to prep for this leadership program--oh, I didn't mention? Yes, I've been enrolled in a year-long leadership development program, very eminent, run by the dude who was CIO at MIT for twenty years, no fucking pressure at all why do you ask--the first session of which is in Stanford the last week of March, and there is homework one must complete beforehand. Plus, we are kicking off a major application implementation on March 1, and this is almost entirely my pidgin; it will stand or fall based on what I put into it, and it is costing us a number with a lot of zeros on the end, so I had bloody well better not be at home to the Fuckup Fairy. Plus there's the usual day-to-day stuff that keeps me off the street. And moving in the middle of it, which is always glorious for concentrating the mind on the work at hand.

I know I just have to keep on keepin' on, as the man says, and really that's what I do, and I can do it this time too; I know this even in the dark of the night. I could just really wish that it all didn't have to come down at once, and on top of all the other sorrow and chaos swirling around.
serinde: (Delirium)
A co-op application, even for a weenie subletter, is a serious thing with lots of info. They want everything to do a credit check, so it has information like your SSN, your bank account number, your last N residences, etc. Oh yes, and a check.

Wanting to be careful about this sort of information, I thought it wise to send it via certified mail, which has delivery confirmation and requires a signature. Because it's going to an office, right? Someone should be there, right?


I looked at the tracking number. Delivery was attempted last Tuesday, no one was there[*], and so a notice was left to come pick it up at the post office. (It seems they do not attempt redelivery.)

Which no one has, from that day to this. And at this point I don't expect they will. So in fifteen days (!!) it gets sent back to me, and I can try mailing it again. And then they have to actually read it, and process it, and interview me, and pass judgment, and etc. By which point I will be worn to a breaking point wondering if I have someplace to live or not.

[*] I s'pose it's possible that the mail carrier was playing silly buggers and didn't actually ring, as occasionally happens.
serinde: ("What fresh hell?")
I need to be out of my apartment in 2.2 months. rather soon, when you put it down baldly that way. I had consciously put packing out of my mind, because that's one of those tasks in which early action does not redound to your benefit, mostly, and trebly so when Your Life In Boxes becomes a sliding-block puzzle on account of a total lack of storage; but the sweet spot of when to pack is at the pinnacle of a very, very narrow spike on the graph over time. And I think I am rapidly accelerating upslope.

So, pack what? Books (I can make do with the ebook reader), DVDs (I can make do with Netflix), stalled sewing projects (haw haw). The kitchen stuff I rarely use. Tchotchkes. ...that should keep me busy for awhile.

I'm also debating how best to acquire boxes. Last time, I caused U-Line to deposit an Imperial butt-ton of them on my doorstep, which was okay because there was a garage with no car in it to stage them in. I think that won't work here. But, it seems fiscally broken to buy them in batches-of-five from Staples or whatever. How do normal apartment dwellers deal with it?

I want to go to sleep, but I'm actually more awake now than I was at 5pm. I have also noticed the last week or so that I'm starting to get that electric-worms-under-skin feeling that accompanied last spring's extended freak-out. It would seem that I am stressed, and sublimating it. I would like that to stop now, but I don't know how to fix it.
serinde: (determination)
As the Gentle Reader knows, I have this past year been over my current domicile. Though the owners are taking steps to address some physical issues (the insect invasion, some building repairs, etc.), and some of the problems have gone away (the shrieking Russian chicks, Drunky McBuzzerPresser), the vibe has gone stone cold. Having come to this decision, and having the lease renewal I do not intend to sign staring me in the face, I am of course wigging out and second-guessing myself. Though I don't intend to start serious searching until after the New Year, it seems well to organize my thoughts now, both to have them organized (duh) and because burping them all out is likely to reduce the white noise in my brain.

Location, location, location )

Define your beast. )

The silent screaming of the mind. )

I will create another spreadsheet to track the places I look at, as that worked well last time, and blort out my impressions here for reference. After the holidays, I will be severely curtailing my social activities and concentrating on blitzing this. If I don't have something lined up by March 1, I will dump everything in storage and crash somewhere until success is obtained.
serinde: ("What fresh hell?")
So I picked up the keys to the apartment last night, and went in for the first time since I looked it over and said "yes, have some". I unlocked the door, dropped my four bags of miscellaneous crap, and looked around; and then did an impression of the above icon.

I don't know how, but it looked bigger with all the previous tenant's stuff in it. I WILL NEVER FIIIIIIIIT I HAVE THROWN OUT ALL MY STUFF AND I STILL WON'T FIIIIIIIIIIT

While I was slowly rotating and gibbering, [ profile] sweh came in (with flowers!!) and got me a bit calmed down; and then I proceeded with the intended goal, which was to take the tape measure and the graph paper and actually graph the place out. (This is what happens when your parents start you on D&D at age 7.) Regrettably I cannot scan it at this time, so draw along at home: The place is basically a big rectangle, just under 11' wide, and about 25' long. (And then the bathroom is stuck on the end.) At the not-bathroom end are two windows; if you set your back to them and walk forward about 15.5', the walls come in to form a 5' wide doorway, with two folding doors. When you're standing with your back to the windows, immediately to your left is stove, sink, enough countertop for one appliance (who wins? Coffeemaker, mixer, rice cooker, or toaster?), and fridge. Th-th-th-that's all, folks.

Intellectually, I know it is more than possible to live in such a space. We all know people who do, and do it well. And moreover, as I keep chanting to myself, I have a one year lease; if the place chafes, I can leave. But it's still a shock to the mind to feel all "oh I've done pretty well! Look at all the stuff I'm getting rid of or not taking!" and then realize, well, actually, it's not half enough. It has been noted that perhaps I am just a wee bit too wrapped up in Proving Something and Doing It Perfectly and sundry other related issues.

I'm not sure if the futon fits. The desk does, but by damn the computer goes there and only there. TV goes where? Can't take the blue armchair, or if I do, it's in place of the futon and that seems bad, want to have a guest bed. Must get flat-panel TV, no two ways about that. I can fit bed and dresser, and the jewelry armoire, but I just don't know about the vanity. OH MY GOD I FORGOT ABOUT THE BAR STUFF WHERE DOES THE BOOZE GO

Oh, and litterbox. I could probably get a smaller one, as Ranger eats two kibbles a day and produces very little effluvium, but it still must needs go somewhere.

So. Yes. Everybody Panic.
serinde: (Default)
I'm sort of feeling anti-"fleshy things with their mouth noises" at the moment (I guess I have for awhile, at that; but it's marked tonight) so this will consist chiefly of unadorned information.

1. Yes, I signed on Apartment #12. I will, barring extreme WTFery, be moving the first weekend in April. Various, but mostly high, levels of psycho-emotional ulaeulaeulaeulae are being generated from these small, bare facts.

2. I was in London this past weekend, as some knew, some intuited, and some had no idea on. I went to [ profile] sbp's birthday party, which was groovy; missed [ profile] simonb's birthday party, which I deeply regret; went down t'pub with [ profile] pir, which was most pleasant; and missed connections with [ profile] reddragdiva, which I also deeply regret. I also got mired in a bog, discovered an 18th c. house in Hampstead Heath, and continued my trend of walking into pubs frozen to the core (and then got stared at like I had three heads when I asked for tea with whisky--did not you people invent this shit?). Ostensibly the purpose of this adventure was to see a number of the members of Hawkwind recreate the legendary 1972 Space Ritual tour, which is literally a once-in-a-lifetime chance, but Nik Turner fucked up his back using a chainsaw last week (!?!?) and so it's postponed til June. Because of the nature of the exceedingly cheap ticket I got, trying to change my travel time or even cashing it in for a credit would have been a giant lose, so I just bloody well went, and why not? Also, I really like Camden. And I feel slightly lame for not heading down to Brixton on Sat. night to see Alabama 3's all-night dance party: on the one hand, yes I'd been up for nigh 40 hours at that point, but on the other, when would I have a chance to do that again either?. Anyways. Returned last night, am still awfully flat.

3. I need to re-dye the teal in my hair but I just don't have the energy or will. I find this mildly distressing, but hope and trust that a few days' sleep will set me up right.
serinde: (determination)
Comes now Apartment #12, E. 66th between First and York: 1BR, in that wacky Manhattan way which means "bedroom, living room, kitchen: pick two". The living room (which has the kitchenstuff recessed into a wall per normal studio operations) is 11 X 18, and the bedroom is 11 X 12. But here is the kicker: it's arranged much like #4, only the archway between the sections is smaller, and separated by a pair of folding wooden doors; so you can close it for privacy, or open it for larger social occasions or just a more airy feeling. The bathroom is generous, with a full size old-timey tub like [ profile] nedlnthred's. The kitchen, though the whole against-the-wall thing, is all new appliances and has a decent amount of cabinetry for what it is (and I picture putting one of my IKEA workbenches parallel to it, to form a sort of mini-railroad-kitchen). One flight up; two living room windows that look out over the back gardens that the ground floor apartments have access to (and a window in the bedroom area that looks into an airshaft, so not much point). It is for a bit under $LIMIT. It's a bit further from work than #10, but that also means I won't have major road work right outside my building, and OH GOSH IT'S A WHOLE FIVE MINUTES FURTHER oh the humanity. No laundry in building, alas. There is a bunch of stuff along First, though, including laundromats.

The building itself dates to 1872, is brick construction, and has lovely mo(u?)lding around the windows &c just like the stuff in Beth's house. The super lives downstairs, works from home, and is clearly Everybody's Mom; she had me in for a cup of tea talking the place up, and there were several tenants who were coming up & down who chatted with her for a minute. So, definitely a nice vibe. She accepts packages, laundry drop-offs, all that sort of thing. Oh, and you can get DSL there, hurrah.

The building isn't as nice as #9, but it's nice enough, and closer (and cheaper). It's not as close and the kitchen isn't as nice as #10, but it's nice enough and close enough, and bigger (and cheaper). It's not as close and not as handsomely appointed as #11, but it's close enough and handsome enough, and bigger (and cheaper). It seems kind of obvious, doesn't it?
serinde: (brew-up)
I was walking from the F to work this morning, but happened to cross over to the other side of the street as my goal was to go onward for coffee; and happened to notice, in the window of the art supply store, a small placard saying "Studio apartment for rent, inquire within". So I did.

Apartment #11: Studio, Lexington Ave. at about 65th St. For the same $TOOMUCH I keep seeing everything for (obviously it's a break point). Every time I think "wow, can't beat the location" I see something EVEN CLOSER... I can literally See My House From Here. 3rd floor walk-up, the bottom floor being the aforementioned family-owned art supply store (who own the apartment, too--maybe the whole building?) and the 2nd floor is an old-school tailor. The apartment itself is...small. Maybe 16' square in toto, with the kitchen implements randomly jumbled into a nook in the corner. No counter space whatsoever except a cheap pressboard stand-alone unit someone shoved in there at some point, which is maybe 2 feet square. One picks one way through this cubby to get to the bathroom, which is also tiny, and has the most peculiar old-timey tub: it's like [ profile] nedlnthred's, an old deep curvy iron one, but only half the length, with a shower sending down into it. The windows face behind, so not much street noise, and there's a reasonable amount of light and privacy. No laundry, of course.

So it's small and it's kind of aged and the kitchen sucks,'s so very old-timey. There's what has to be an original fake fireplace mantel, in marble, with some Art Deco-ish finishes on it; the floor is a beautiful fancy wood pattern; the sink itself is, I think, possibly original. There's a window seat (just powder-painted metal, yes, but) under one of the two windows--the other having the radiator inside a same-looking containment thingie. These interior details charm me in the way that the exterior details of #9 charmed me. Dither, dither.
serinde: (brew-up)
This one I snuck in right after work, because it is two whole blocks away.

Apartment #10, Second Ave. between 69th and 70th: Studio, for $TOOMUCH. (Actually, there were two in the building, but the lower-floor one was smaller, dingier, and looked out directly onto what will shortly be devastation for the Second Ave. Subway; not a contender.) So, a 4th floor walkup, looking out the back of the building; reasonable light, all things considered, not a great view. The main room is only about, mumble, say 10' X 12'. But! The kitchen, the other "half" of that room, was almost as big. As much cabinetry as our house's kitchen, I warrant; plenty of counter space, and a sticking-out-bit (peninsula?) that could either be acounter or a breakfast bar. And the whole thing nicely and recently redone. Very handsome indeed. The bathroom was also generous. The building itself is kind of meh, but you cannot beat the location, no, not with a stick could you beat it. TWO BLOCKS FROM WORK, d'you hear me? And there's lots of Stuff around; groceries, restaurants, coffee shops, you name it.

I think 10 X 12 is about the size of the room I'm in here at [ profile] nedlnthred's. I seem to be bursting out of it and that's with all my books and the TV and Xbox and DVDs in another room. And I still have a crapload of stuff in [ profile] sweh's garage (though a lot of it is kitchen-related, sure). I'm prepared to downsize, but that far? OTOH, it's probably a roughly equivalent amount of useable space as yesterday's contender, and it does indeed seem bigger because it's all one room. Wibble.
serinde: (maneki neko)
Looked at three more apartments last night. I intended to just look at the one I'd seen the post for, but there were two others in the same building complex available in my price range, so I permitted myself to be shown them as well.

Introspection goes here. )
serinde: (I see stupid people)
[ profile] syringavulgaris: "SpaHa", forsooth.
[ profile] syringavulgaris: I really want to start smacking people.
[ profile] elibalin: Er? Where's that supposed to be?
[ profile] elibalin: Really. I'm not sussing it out.
[ profile] syringavulgaris: Spanish Harlem.
[ profile] elibalin: Oh for gosh sakes.
[ profile] elibalin: I would like to exile these people to the glamorous archipelago of StatIs.
serinde: (Default)
So I've looked at five apartments so far (there should have been a sixth today, but the super was MIA, so we shall have to reschedule), after a number of Craigslist and NY Times cullings; also (shhh) the use of a colleague's login on a listings accretion site. MORE EXCITING REAL ESTATE ADVENTURES!! )

Then we went to two museums and NJ Transit fucked me around and made me and all my clothes stink of burnt rubber and I'm really, really exhausted.
serinde: (Default)
I'm not ready to talk, or think, about Grandma just yet so I've been looking at apartments again. This is twitchy enough to make me start down other avoidance behavior roads, but I'm keeping mostly en point.

burble burble blort )


serinde: (Default)

September 2013

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