Suddenly Cold

Seattle is a fun place to live. One of the best things about it, of course, are the unexpected weather changes. Two days ago it was hot and sunny. Now we're into day three of the usual: cold and rain. Nobody really knows how long that will last. And I don't really mind, except for the fact that it totally took me by surprise this time. It's my first winter out of my own. And I never realized that the things on windows called curtains actually serve a bigger purpose than hanging decoration.

My mom warned me too. She said I'll need some heavy curtains to keep out the cold, as well as a bed, which would make me warmer because I'd be further away from the floor. I brushed her off. Summer was a comfortable time, and I thought it's always gonna be like that. But i was wrong. For the past couple days I've been going to bed and waking up in freezing temperatures, (which I'm sure are the reason for the headache that persistently won't go away for the past twelve hours). My empty space feels extra unwelcoming and uninviting now. Suddenly a lump sum of money for a bed and a mattress seems like a good investment. As always, mom was right.
Moving out on your own will make you realize all sorts of things you didn't know before! One of them is that parents are much smarter than you think. Not that I ever doubted that... just that once again it has been confirmed. If you just moved out on your own... listen to mom and get some curtains and a bed! Because once winter comes, you'll need both! Trust me!

Settling In

I've been trying to completely quit my credit card since I've moved out. But I failed miserably over the weekend. For this very reason, you are now looking at a proud owner of a couch. Ok, fine, it's a futon. All my aspirations to have "real" and "grown up" furniture went down the drain with the purchase of this useful piece. It ALMOST looks like a couch. It's definitely not the "mattress on a frame" kind, although I almost bought that... but then my self-respect would've completely been destroyed.

Of course buying the thing was only half the task. The other half was getting it into my new apartment -- particularly from the car to the unit. For the weekend I borrowed my mom's pimp mini-van -- the couch fit snuggly in the back. Since the parents weren't available, I started looking for help amongst Seattle-dwellers of acquaintance. (Of course offers to help came largely AFTER the couch was already in the apartment.)

I woke up too late for my guy friend with muscle to help, and my girl with muscle woke up too late to help me. Fortunately, my "twin" Anna rushed to the rescue as soon as I called her. That's when all the fun began. There's technically only one way the couch would've even fit into the narrow openings leading into my unit. This way, naturally, was not at all the most comfortable to hold the couch for two frail women. It was also, of course, not the way we first figured we need to hold it.

One of the features that sold the futon to me was the fact that it folds two ways -- horizontally and vertically. A very versatile and useful combination for sitting or laying down. Not so much for moving it through narrow spaces. The only way it would've fit was if it was completely unfolded, standing vertically up on one of its sides. The couch, of course, had a mind of its own. It was determined to exhibit all its usefulness before it was set down on the designated spot. Both sides kept folding on their own at the worst possible times. At one point it was a toss-up between ruining the couch and ruining the railing around the apartment. Somehow both survived.

After 20 minutes of Herculian effort and hysterical laughter, the futon was finally in my living room. Of course, the thing looks A LOT bigger in my apartment than it did on the show floor in Fred Meyers. But it fit. And we got it in. Now I can have people over with a place for them to actually sit. I'm also now a proud owner of my first large piece of furniture, as well as worthy, serious, life expense related, grown up, credit card debt :)

Apartment Hunt Tale

The apartment I have is a perfect first place. It's quirky, bright, cozy, colorful, and a perfect combination of old-world charm and decent renovation. It was the first place I found after a month break from looking, the first one I went to see, and the only one I filled out an application for. But before resuming my search at the end of July, I spent half of May and the entire June looking at different places almost every day. Sometimes I'd cram three or even four apartments into a night, and some were good, but out of my price range. Others were just not somewhere I wanted to come home to after a long day at work. During my search I've met with various managers, situations, and owners... Below are a couple of my chance encounters.

Encounter #1
I walk past a charming red-brick in Belltown. The exterior is as classy and romantic as it gets. Clearly, the building holds a lot of history within, and as I pass it I imagine a cozy little place with mozaic tile in the bathroom, hardwood floors with a pattern, and red brick showing on one of the walls. The entry holds a sign "1 bedroom and studio for rent. See manager six doors down (arrow pointing in the right direction included.)" I start counting the doors. The sixth one is a small shop that sells something so old that I can't even tell for sure what it is. To me it looks like a hybrid of a camera, telescope, and shotgun. An archaic relic is standing behind the counter. I approach.

"Is this the right place to see the manager for the apartment building down the street?" "That would be me!" I turn on as much charm as safely reasonable to entice an older gentlemen without turning him into an older creep. He absolutely falls for it, and soon the relic is telling me the story of his daughter leaving her company, including all the juicy details of office rivalry, backstabbing, drama, and gossip. I won't name the company, since it's one of the huge ones based in Washington, along with Boeing, Microsoft and Amazon. All I'll say is that their coffee is GOOD.

Patiently I listen, smile, and nod my head for a good forty minutes. The unit in my imagination is totally worth the time I'm wasting. Finally, he takes out the key and murmurs the seven long-awaited words: "So... you want to go see it?" YES!!! We walk down the block to the building. We enter. A strong smell of old and garbage immediately penetrates my senses. We pass through what used to be a door into the hallway and the smell changes. Now it's smoke. I look around. Oh the judgments we make based on exterior appearances! How strongly they mislead us. The 120 year old building has clearly never seen any renovation. The carpet in the hallway, where there's still any left, is drained with stains of variety comparable only to species in a rainforest. A ghostlike creature slowly descends down the stairs and greets the manager without moving a single muscle on its face. I'm ready to bolt out of there immediately, but decide to stick it out until the end, out of respect for age and wisdom.

Age and wisdom proceeds to slowly walk to the unit, stopping at every turn to recount the many moments of its long life. Finally it lets me into the studio. I feel like I stepped into a movie. Into a horror 1920's silent film with an abandoned castle and Frenkeinstein looming around that is. A thick layer of dust and dirt is covering the floor and walls. There is spider web in the corners. The closet containing a pull-out bed is dark enough to hold hundreds of monsters who will surely come out and get you in the night. The paint on walls and kitchen... let's call them cabinets... is chipped to the point that it looks like graffitty on the streets of Brooklyn -- all colorful and dreary.

"I usually rent it out for $950 but I'll lower it down to $850 for you." Is he blind or in denial? And who the heck would be dumb enough to pay that much for a hole like this? The answer soon emerges as the relic tells of numerous raids that went through the building in search of illegal immigrants residing on its premises and drug busts. To be polite, I ask about the electricity bill. It's $150 a month in the winter. He's crazy. But once again, the reason emerges almost immediately as I inspect the windows and find that they are placed into the frame at somewhat of an angle. About 45 degrees I would say. Large enough of an angle to fit my entire hand through the "crack" between the frame and the window! "So, what do you think? You want it?" "I will sleep on it" -- my standard answer. No need though. All I want is to get out of the smelly, shady place. But my new painfully developed contact in the business of telescope-shotgun-camerathingys doesn't need to know.

Encounter #2
On my way from a friends house to work I pass another charming old-style building and imagine how cute it'd be to live in. (You'd think i've learned my lesson from the haunted house, right?) Low and behold, craigslist that day holds an ad for a one bedroom in my price range in that exact location! I don't waste a second, and make an appointment to see it that afternoon. Taking a risk of running slightly over the lunch hour, I arrive early to make a good impression and call the manager to let me in. No response. But I figure he'll be there by the time of our appointment. Exactly on the hour I call again. Nothing. But once again, the charm of the building is strong enough to glue me to my spot and wait, wait, and wait.

Twenty minutes later the manager calls me back, apologizing, and stating that he forgot about the appointment but can be there in ten minutes. O.K. I'd have to see the unit VERY quickly. Twenty minutes later he finally arrives. "I am SO sorry for being late, can I take you out for coffee or something to make up for it?" He's young, and not too attractive, but taking advantage of his immediate reaction I turn on my charm and get into the mode of playful dismay in attempt to get what I want. "And how would that benefit ME?" I ask with a smile. "I was thinking more like you should lower the advertised rent." He's game, and immediately takes off $50 a month. Score.

We enter the apartment, and its nothing special. It's not bad, but the pink bathtub (did Seattle go through an insanity phase or something? Who makes tubs PINK?!) and the water knob installed in such a way as to allow for hot water to only passively trickle out, makes me depressed. Unfortunately for the manager I'm not into cold showers. But he doesn't need to know. I tell him I'll think about it, and he asks again if he can take me out for coffee. I politely refuse one more time. He asks if I would like an application, and I politely agree to take one. We step into his office, and he once again asks if I'd like to have a cup of coffee, or lunch or something. No, I would not like that.

To keep the conversation going, I get on my usual safe topic of electricity bills. "Well my girlfriend and I have lived in a unit just like this for a year and it was no more than $35 for two months. But we moved to a bigger place now." Hmm... I wonder what she'd think about him making up his being late to our appointment by taking me out to lunch... I take the application, thank him, and proceed to leave. At the last minute he checks one more time if maybe I'd like to grab something to eat with him sometime. Oh the bond of loving committed relationships!

First Stuff

I've waited for at least 10 years to finally have my own space to decorate exactly how I want. I now have the place, the money for the stuff, and the time to go buy it. So after a long trip to a couple stores tonight I came home with... NOTHING. And I don't understand what the heck is wrong with me! But I have my theories.

Theory #1: There's too much stuff to buy and I don't know where to start. I practically don't have anything to move into my apartment, except for my clothes. Ironically, clothes are the only thing that even made it into my shopping cart today. I walked up and down at least a dozen isles, some of them several times. I touched the towels, took out the laundry hampers, compared prices for the coffee makers, and couldn't decide.

Theory #2: It's unfamiliar territory. I mean, throw me into clothes or shoes and I'll be able to tell you exactly what's worth what, what's a good bargain, and what's a worthy investment. By now I'm instinctually able to pick out quality. Even in places like TJ Maxx and Ross I still manage to get drawn to the only purse in the store that costs $299.00 (on sale!). Household stuff? Not so much. I have no clue how much pots and pans cost, and which ones are good quality. And my usual modernish style definitely doesn't mesh well with the quirkiness of my new place. Plus, I haven't stayed there long enough to know the dimensions and to figure out exactly what I need and don't need. I also don't know how much stuff I'll be able to comfortable jack from home, and I definitely don't want to invest in duplicates...

Theory #3: I'm resenting leaving home now that I have to do it. I think this was most strongly evident today when out of a line of dishes in target I was only attracted to the white ones with... PINK FLOWERS!!! If you know anything about me, you'll remember that I'm all about clean lines, weird shapes, and classy or bright colors. Flowers... not so much. I've successfully killed several plants in my office, and about half of my mom's potted flowers while she was gone. I'm just NOT a flower person -- live or decoration. But I'm imagining them hanging from the hook outside my window! Am I turning into mom?!

Theory #4: I'm being smart about money. Maybe the difficult part is choosing what I get right away and what I get later. But the looming sense that rent is due September 1st and on the first of every month for the next year is... overwhelming. And I'm not about to get into credit card debt just so I can have all my stuff right away. That'd make it fun only for one night anyways. There'd be no gradual acquisition of treasures... No history of my household. So pick and choose I must.

Theory #5: It's that mentality of opposition. Now that I have to actually buy everything, I don't want to do it! It's the same in working and writing. I only enjoy it when I don't have to. I've had so many days when I'd start outputing crazy amounts of work the minute it's time to go home! And accomplish more in several hours on a weekend in my office than I've done the entire week... I guess it's called stubborness. I should work on that.

All I'm hoping for is that tomorrow will be a new day, I'll be well rested, and think better than tonight. Because right now I can't stop thinking about those dishes with flowers... Which just shows I really need some sleep.

Life's Too Good :)

I saved this topic to protect myself from being intruded on at unreasonable hours by intruders as well as friends who are only there when they find that you have a place available to party all night. (Not exactly my thing.) My parents have been on vacation for the past three weeks, and tonight they are finally coming home! :)

For the first three days I missed them like crazy. Coming back to an empty house after work and having noone there to talk to killed. There I was, left all by myself (not counting cat), in a four bedroom house full of responsibilities and weird creeping creatures that imagination creates when it's dark and quiet.

But to my utter amazement, I adjusted to living by myself very fast. House chores don't really feel like chores when you're doing them for yourself and on your own time. And loneliness is quickly gone once you find something to occupy your mind, which has never been a problem for me. I'm an only child, so I never depended on other people to entertain me. I cooked up a storm -- including a steak and lobster dinner, which I didn't have to share with ANYONE(Only child trait coming through!), and four cakes in twenty-four hours! And I enjoyed every second of it on an empty kitchen with nobody telling me how to do things better. (You think I'm talking about mom? Guess again! Yes, she does it, but dad has developed a habit too lately. Never mind that he's been MIA from the kitchen for the entire duration of my life! :)

The experience of living on my own was entirely different from when I moved to college five years ago. I didn't last back then. Maybe I grew up a little slower than the rest of my generation, but I've heard from others too that it took them about three months to stop missing home. I honestly don't think kids are emotionally ready to move out at 18. I definitely wasn't. And I haven't seriously entertained the thought until this year, and only because my commute was so tedious. I was still anxious though that I would miss home and waste money on rent while going back every day, like I did in college.

But I guess growing up creeps up unexpectedly and one day you just realize that you are an adult. That's what happened to me over the past couple weeks. I realized that I'll be more than fine on my own. That I love talking to my parents, but I'm not dependent on them (or anyone else) emotionally anymore. It's an empowering and liberating feeling. It's as if God knew the right timing for me. Because a week ago I started looking for apartments again after a month break of searching and finding nothing. I fell in love with the first place I went to see. And I got it. So now I'm officially a resident of Seattle, WA, 98103!!!

Sunset from the window of my place (taken by previous tenant).