Another thing no one tells you about living in Manhattan

There are tons of things you should know about living in NYC that no one ever bothers to tell you and lucky me, I get to discover all the gross ones! I should warn this post isn't for faint stomachs.

So here the tip is, you can thank me later: if you live in Manhattan, you will see a water bug at some point. Maybe outside. Maybe in the hallway. Maybe in the laundry room. Maybe (gulp) in your apartment. Water bugs are aka co...cockro...gawd, I can't even say it. Just read. They are everywhere! There's a reason why they say after the Apocalypse there will be those things and Cher. My building is quite clean but I live on the southern tip of Manhattan, aka part that used to be underwater. When you expand the island via dirt and trash and then build on top of it these things will happen. Could be worse I suppose...it could be rats. *shiver*

Last year I only saw one in my apartment. I learned the hard way that they crawl up the side of my building and come in through the window. I saw the damn thing come in and then it scampered behind my media center while I screamed in horror. I didn't see it for a few days so I hoped it was dead or crawling across someone's else's floor. But these things live to be over 100 so I was just fooling myself. One night I was having a private iPod concert while working. I was singing Sinatra's "I've Got You Under My Skin" when I saw the water bug crawl by my bedroom door. Oh the cruel coincidence of that moment. I managed to trap it and kill it (thank you, Raid!) but the creepy-crawly effects lasted for days afterwards.

Since then I don't really open my apartment windows during the warmer months. They are old windows in my nice old high rise so they have no screens. It's OK -- if I want a breeze I just go up to the roof deck. Unfortunately the maintenance staff doesn't know my neurotic rules so while working on my apartment the other day (after my closet rack collapsed under the weight of all of my clothes, hee) they opened the windows. I came home and gave my best horror film "Noooooooooo!" as I slo-mo ran to the windows. It was too late though! It was too late.

For the other morning, what did I see? You guessed it. Another damn water bug scampering by my bedroom door. Once again I managed to trap and kill it. The thing was huge! Practically the size of my Apple remote. Bleh! Bleh! Creepy crawlies. Not a fan.

So how do you keep your apartment water bug-proof? Well, you can't. But there are some things you can do to minimize the risk. This article has a good rundown. They're attracted to cold, dark and damp spots. So keep your floors clean, your sink empty and your garbage tended to. Don't store cardboard in your apartment either -- this is one of the most common mistakes. Critters are attracted to it. You can get new moving boxes when you move. It's so not worth it. Hopefully your neighbors are clean too.

A few of my friends had infestations and let me tell you it's not pretty. So be warned. You will see one; it will be gross and you will have to deal with it. My apologies in advance.

For the first time in my NYC life, I'm NOT moving

Oh my god, I'm putting down roots. I was beginning to doubt the possibility of ever living in the same apartment for more than a year but it's happening. And it's such a relief. Despite all of the turmoil of 2009 I am going to be able to stay in my apartment. I'm so relieved not to have to apartment hunt again or pack everything up again or start over in a new neighborhood again. Financial District, you are my home! Finally I feel like my apartment is mine.

I'm still going to be skating on thin ice for awhile but I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel. It started two weeks ago when I went to dinner with two of my close galpals. We were celebrating our successes (one friend is doing so incredibly well at work, the other is in school learning about stuff that sounds so cool) and venting about strife. Mine was of course feeling financially squeezed and wondering what my next step was for my apartment. My lease is up in March. I was afraid management would raise the rent. I was dreading it.

My friends must be good luck because the very next day I got a letter from the building. They offered me (and I'm sure, every other tenant whose lease is almost up) the opportunity to stay in my current apartment for another year or two at the same rent, plus incentives of x months free depending on the resigned lease length. It was an unexpected joy. I'd heard of friends getting similar deals in their buildings but didn't expect it for myself. It was like a mini-miracle.

I'd been working on getting myself back into the moving mindset to save money so for a week I tried to fool myself into thinking I would be happy moving. But by the weekend it was clear I'd be miserable. So I talked it over with some close friends and my family and together they helped me decide that staying is the best decision for me. I am still going to continue looking for freelance work to make ends meet and I think will apply at a few retail places again.

I can't express how great it feels knowing that I get to stay put for at least another year (and probably two). I look forward to being on solid ground not only for my own benefit but so that I can start helping others again, one of my humble pleasures. For now I can only volunteer but I have a feeling someday soon I can start contributing in ways above time. Maybe someday I'll even own a place! With a husband! Dream big roxy, dream big.

State of the Apartment Hunt

Well, here I am. Still in the same apartment. With the mice. I ended up backing out of the Astor Place place so I am back to square 1...again.

When we last left off, broker I had told me that Astor Place place was insisting on a guarantor. I negotiated some free rent out of the deal and decided to move forward. I talked to my sis and she was cool with it so I had the application emailed. Good thing I checked it first because they had jacked up the rent in return for the free rent. Yeesh. Did they think I wasn't going to notice? The broker said "well the management company is paying my fee so I can't really negotiate." What kind of BS is that? The worst kind if you ask me. So I said no way.

Now I am sitting here with a chunk of change in my bank account that I can't spend, and though I'm sure everything will be fine I'm kind of hoping that I still have my place because I had to leave a message for my management rep earlier this week that I would be staying another month. I am 99.9% sure that she hasn't shown my place yet because 1) it's been a disaster area and 2) I'm pretty sure I'm the only one with keys to my door locks. The locksmith changed them after I moved in. I've tried calling every day this week except Thanksgiving and always get voicemail. So hopefully I won't be tossed out on the street tomorrow night because that would really suck! (Though it would also be just my luck lately.)

Between the crazy market and crazier management companies this 2nd NYC apartment search certainly has not gone the way I envisioned. Despite it all, I am optimistic I will find a great place. I'm lucky to have an understanding job and some flexibility in my living situation. Now we are entering the slow period both for new rentals coming onto the market and the amount of renters looking. The tough thing now is leases -- I don't want a lease that expires on Dec. 31! So I'll probably need to negotiate a 13-month lease.

The other option is to take a month or two off from apartment hunting. But every time I convince myself this is the right move (and logically it probably is) one of my neighbors will crash around or keep me up overnight or I will see yet another mouse scampering around and as my mental health slowly wears away I realize why I have to get the hell out of this apartment ASAP.

In one last-ditch moved I emailed Broker S back about the Tribeca place. Last week I had drinks with a friend who is a broker and he asked me why I didn't pitch my sister as a co-signer instead of a guarantor. The bad thing is she would be treated as a roommate instead of a guarantor. But the truth is it's mostly a moot distinction. So I wrote to S last Monday. Have not heard back: he either just laughed at how pathetic I am or he was on vacation last week. It's a longshot but you never know.

So for the meantime I am: 1 - hoping I still can stay in my current place for at least another month! 2 - hoping Broker S writes me back with good news and 3 - searching for anything that measures up to the Tribeca or Astor Place places. Maybe I'll just move to Queens.

If it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all

My bad luck string with apartments continues. On Friday the no-fee broker (I) called to let me know that my offer had been approved for the Astor Place...umm...place. After being burned by Tribeca I have learned that doesn't mean much, so I wasn't surprised when the broker called today to let me know that the management company changed their mind and is now requiring a guarantor. It's kind of bullshit and I'm mad that I keep getting told I'm approved only to find that there are more asterisks than a baseball line score during the steroids era.

The reasons why I'm balking at a guarantor are: 1 -- I am more than likely going to make 40 times the rent I need for this place (I've started freelancing again for some extra cash and though it's iffy I'm sure I'll have no problem clearing $10,000 in freelance work for the year); 2 -- they freakin' told me I was approved! Seriously management companies. Your apartments are sitting vacant for weeks on end for a reason. I know you usually require 40 times the rent but that was during the boom times and guess what? The boom went ka-boom. Now we're crashing back to earth and your rents are going to have to come down if you insist on keeping these ridiculous rent requirements. Building value be damned. Take us as we are or let your apartments drive you broke! It makes no sense to me; buildings would rather take no rental income and uphold these draconian requirements than get rental income a bit under market.

I'm balking at the guarantor clause because of the shaky economy. I don't mind chancing ruining my own credit if I was unlucky enough to lose my job but there is no way I'm taking my sister down with me. That just ain't fair. Just this week two of my friends were laid off and I admit it shook me up a little bit. I wonder if this is a message from a higher power -- don't waste all your income on rent. I really want to move but the cards just don't seem to be aligned for this. Broker I told me he'd talk to the management company and see what they could do. I'm not holding my breath. At least I've already gone through this once so I'm not too upset. I just hope non-Super will let me stay in my current place.

I think I lost my next apartment

Well it looks like Manhattan Skyline Management is going to fuck me out of the apartment they said I could have last week. I spoke to the leasing rep today who gave me three options: 1 -- get another guarantor (can't); 2 -- contact some bond company and get them to co-sign with me (sounds like a scam, no fucking way) or 3 -- put up some kind of asset worth $15,000 as collateral for the apartment (fuck no).

The best part was this paraphrased quote: 'We're not worried about whether or not you can pay the rent. You have good credit and we know you'll pay the rent. The issue is whether or not you meet the qualifications.' So basically...even though you know I'll always pay my rent you don't want me living here because I don't meet your arbitrary guidelines? Sure, that's not discriminatory!

The leasing agent told me to send documentation about my 401k and he'd see what he could do but at this point I'm over it. I'm not giving them anything else. I'm calling my lawyer tomorrow to see if there's any recourse (doubtful though). I'm also in deep shit. I have already given notice that I'm moving out Dec. 1 so now my hands are kind of tied. So I have 10 days or so to find an apartment. Yuck.

Manhattan Skyline Management is making me very angry...

...grrrr. Well, there is always some kind of drama with NYC apartment hunting and here I am once again. The first time around it was adventures in cashier's checks. This time around it's cold feet on the part of the building's management company. For this building it's Manhattan Skyline Management.

Let's review the hoops I've jumped through so far, shall we? I called about an apartment that was $2200/mo but that apartment was 'gone' so instead I chose a $2400/mo apartment. I filled out an application, I put in a deposit, I paid a credit check fee, I provided all required documentation within 24 hours (copy of driver's license, two paystubs, two bank statements, employment verification letter, first two pages of last 2 years' tax returns, etc.), I make very close to 40x the rent and with bonus will be close to the 45x this building wants (ridiculous) yet I STILL provided the same amount of documentation for a guarantor, I gave a check for ANOTHER credit check fee. I have been nothing but proactive for this entire process. And now you are telling me you're not sure if I make enough to live in your building? Please. I realize it must chafe you guys a bit that you have to rent some of your apartments below market levels. Don't think of it as losing money. Think of it as paying it forward.

Let's review, shall we? The reason you had openings in the first place is because a whole bunch of people in the financial industry lost their jobs and had to move out of your building. I work in the Internet Industry's fastest growing sector -- hosting. While other companies are laying off, our company is hiring. I realize I don't make $11 billion per year (yet) but I have been living in rental housing for 7 years and in that time I have never paid my rent late. That is at least 84 on-time rent payments and counting. Above that, I'm a quiet tenant. The loudest thing I do is blog! (Sad, I know.)

So which would you rather have? A trust fund baby who trashes your apartment, is obnoxious and fucks you over before moving out by not paying the rent for a few months because they just do not care? Or someone who has been clawing for money their entire life, who gets it and knows to pay their bills? God, I am so angry right now!

Yeah, I'm pretty
upset right now.

This would ONLY happen in NYC. I don't know of any other city, village, town, incorporated area, anything that requires jumping through this many hoops. And yet for better or worse I have done everything you asked and have shown myself to be more than qualified for the apartment. Yeesh.

Here is the deal. After being told I was all set for my apartment after a long week and a half process I was just waiting for a call from Manhattan Skyline Management to set my lease-signing date. And then lo and behold last night I get a call from the leasing agent saying that they're not sure I make enough in salary. What? Seriously? You told me I was all set! I have already notified my current landlord that I'm moving out because you said I was all set. You were calling me to set a lease-signing date! That's what you said! You said my application was approved but you wanted a guarantor as backup! This is why I get so nervous about this kind of thing. Good faith is no longer good faith. I knew it wasn't a done deal until I had a signed lease.

First of all, Manhattan Skyline Management, your requirements for living in this rent-stabilized building are exhorbitant. 45x times the rent is 5x above the standard. Furthermore we have been going through this rental process for almost 2 weeks. You have had my application for 12 days. You couldn't mention this before? You waited until AFTER I gave you a cashier's check deposit? What am I supposed to do now? I should mention that your two leasing agents have been mostly a pleasure to deal with but that doesn't make up for this.

Don't answer. Because I know what I am going to do. I am going to research every damn thing I can find in the god-forsaken city rental resources and come to you on Monday armed with enough information and evidence in my favor to bury you. Let's just forget about this little performance anxiety episode, set a lease-signing date and let bygones be bygones. There is no other option. BFF M just went through this exact same thing. Her management company came to their senses and realized peeps like us are ideal residents. Want to wake up to the same thing, Manhattan Skyline?

I'm going to go stew for awhile. Thanks for ruining my weekend, Manhattan Skyline Management.

'Not even the government requires this much paperwork'

What a crazy week. I feel as though I have not sat still for a moment. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent being forced to patiently wait for my sister to return from Italy so she could turn over guarantor documents over to the management company at the new building. Luckily work has been more than busy enough to keep me distracted.

I was also pretty nervous about talking to my current non-Super about moving. Even though I have been lease-free since August, you just never know. My boss put the fear of god into me by saying, "You should check to make sure that your lease doesn't have a clause saying anything about extending terms automatically if you stay in the apartment, whether you have a lease or not." GULP. This was something I hadn't even thought about -- the lease automatically extending another near even though I didn't sign a new one? Luckily one call to my family lawyer shut that fear down.

I scheduled a visit with non-Super on Monday...it didn't happen. (I called during dinner. Bad form on my part.) I scheduled a visit with non-Super on Tuesday...it didn't happen. I finally ended up politely telling non-Super I was moving out by phone. Luckily non-Super was pretty cool about it. I asked about the shelves I put up in the kitchen -- could I leave them behind? Non-Super wanted to come see. I asked about my chairs in the backyard -- could I leave them behind? Non-Super wanted to come see. I scheduled a visit with non-Super on Friday...it didn't happen. Sigh.

My kitchen shelves on the right --
who wouldn't want them?

On Wednesday night my sister returned, and by Thursday morning I was already bugging her. I sent her an email with everything I needed: a completed application, two paystubs, two bank statements, the first two pages of 2006-07 tax returns, copy of driver's license, employment verification letter...a singing bush and an invisible sword. (Made those last two up!) My sister balked. And I can't blame her. Really all the management company should have needed was a paystub and her SS# to run a credit check.

"Roxy," she said to me, "I didn't have to give this much paperwork to get a mortgage!"
"I know," was my reply.
"I didn't have to give this much paperwork to buy a car."
"I know."
"I didn't have to give this much paperwork to get government security clearance!"
"I know. It's ridiculous. But this is just the way it is in NYC."

Her main concern was identity theft. Really, you are turning over your life here. For a freakin' apartment. BFF M and her Dad just went through the exact same thing so I had that to use an example. My sister asked me to play hardball so I tried. I told no-fee broker S it was ridiculous! All the management company should need was two things! It was a no-go and he got feisty with me. I went back to sis, who grudgingly agreed to give me her life story. Isn't she great?

I just turned in her paperwork yesterday. Now I am waiting for the management company to call me back with a lease signing date. I have paid the deposit but still need to hand over my first month's rent cashier's check. The next steps will be calling the moving company and packing! Cannot wait for everything to be signed and done.

Woo-hoo! I have my next apartment

The lease isn't signed yet so I'm still not considering a done deal...but it's pretty much a done deal. S called me today to let me know that the apartment in Tribeca is mine! Let's relive the weekend together, shall we?

On Saturday morning I woke up early and filled out my application. I had to assemble lots of paperwork -- an employment verification letter with annual salary that I'd gotten on Friday; my last two bank statements; my last two paystubs; the first two pages of my last two years' tax returns and a recommendation letter from my landlord. I'd chosen to contact my landlord from CT because I haven't told my management company rep or non-Super that I'm moving out yet. We'll come back to that caveat.

I made copies of everything plus my driver's license and then met up with S at his office. There had been some discussion about maybe offering less than $2400/mo for the apartment. But S recommended that I go in at the full rent price because there were going to be competing offers if I didn't. Reluctantly, I agreed. I had done some more research and found out some additional details about my apartment. Turns out my apartment was the smallest one on the floor. I didn't mind because it was still considerably bigger than my current apartment and the size probably accounted for the lower price. I also found out that my closets are slightly smaller but again it was a quibble. If I lost out on this apartment the next cheapest one was now sitting at $3000/mo -- way beyond my range -- and there are only 2 apartments left in the building.

Floor plan of an apartment
similar to mine

S and I headed down to the building. I wanted to take some photos of the apartment and he was showing another 1 BR to a couple of potential tenants. When we got to the building the leasing office was locked. Luckily the Super was nice enough to let us in to my future apartment. It was still gorgeous! I snapped a ton of pics that later on I realized were pretty dumb: a closeup of the dishwasher! A closeup of the thermostat! (Programmable!) A closeup of the closets! It was obvious that I was delirious.

Then I had a rare opportunity. S had to take some photos of the penthouse and he let me tag along. It was pretty awesome. The apartment had 3 BRs, 3.5 baths, a fireplace and a private rooftop terrace. The finishes weren't as high-end as I was expecting but it was a very nice penthouse. I was in awe. Someday, I kept telling myself.

The leasing office was still locked when we were done so S told me he would try again on Monday. But of course on Sunday J called me and apologized for his partner not showing the day before. He asked if I could drop off the application...except that S had it and it was his day off. I tried to stay calm. I even did my dishes! But I decided to go down to the building and just do everything again so I knew it was done. Of course S called me as I was leaving the building but I didn't mind. I apologized for bugging him on his day off. J told me I could expect an answer on Thursday of this week.

So you can imagine my surprise when I got the call today! I'd tried applying by myself but they are requiring a guarantor for me because I don't quite make enough. My sister has graciously agreed to co-sign with me again...once she gets back from Italy later this week. In fact I got the call so quickly from the building that I don't have all finances in order quite yet. I had to transfer some cash from my Morgan Stanely money market account and they are being slow as molasses. My rep was great but the company itself has all this bureaucratic shit to get through.

Hopefully by this time next week I will have signed my lease and will just be counting the days until I move. My last remaining hurdle is telling my current place that I'm moving out. My lease expired in August and I have not signed a new one. So I have no ties here. But I hope they don't give me a hard time; especially after the crap I've been dealing with from the neighbors. I'm talking to my management company rep tomorrow. I'm hoping it will go smoothly.

Plea for a good night's sleep

I realize that people live different kinds of lifestyles. Some of us -- like my friend J -- are early risers who enjoy being up with the sun and go to bed early to get a good start on the next day. Some of us -- like my friend P -- are night owls who hit the hay as the sun comes up and then wake up ready to do it all over again.

I fall somewhere between. I like to stay up into the wee hours of the morning but I don't really like to sleep too late either. I'd classify this lifestyle as New York normative. Unfortunately for me I've been suffering from a severe lack of sleep lately due to my neighbors. Not only is my upstairs neighbor still tyrannizing me; now my next door neighbor has joined in on the act. I just can't believe how little they seem to care about anyone but themselves.

There is this John Stuart Mill quote running on MTA ads in the subway right now from "On Liberty," which is one of the most interesting books I've ever read. I can't remember the quote verbatim. So to paraphrase it says that each person should do what's best for themselves because you can't please everyone; however you can't be so selfish as to harm other people. Maybe it's silly but I wish my neighbors next door and upstairs would read this and find it self-applicable.

My run-ins with my upstairs neighbor are pretty well documented. Just...not...pleasant. Finally about 3 weeks ago I snapped. It was 11:30 on like a Tuesday or something and the sound of a rolly toy and the pursuit of it was threatening to send me away in a straight jacket. So I called my management company. The rep is just as exasperated as I am at this point. She told me she'd done everything she could do and said call the cops. So I did. And while the cops said they couldn't give her a ticket they agreed to talk to her. The cops also said I was not the first one to complain about the neighbor...yet they couldn't write her a ticket. They warned me it could make the situation worse. Well that hasn't happened because it could not possibly get any worse! I got one peaceful night of sleep and since then it's been all noise all the time. Nearly 24/7.

I mean, look, I get it. Some peeps are up at 4 AM every morning. I don't care and believe that each person should be able to do as they please. But there needs to be some semblance of courtesy. Maybe not stomping around in heels at that hour? Maybe not playing music really loud at that hour? Maybe thinking beyond yourself a bit?

My next door neighbor is like a middle schooler. She comes home every night from work and proceeds to get on the phone for 5-6 hours a night. I only know this because she yells into her phone so loudly that my wall occasionally vibrates from it. No joke. My friends call her Loudy McBitchy OMG. The best part is that she has the same conversation 2 or 3 times a night with different people (or maybe the same one? I'm not really sure). And I don't want to be sure! In fact I don't want to hear about the guy she is supposedly dating that never calls her or her jerky boss and coworkers. I just. Want. Quiet. For awhile I dealt with it by just putting my headphones on every night but lately it's been so loud that I can hear it even with my music turned 3/4 of the way up. Sometimes I turn up my stereo all the way to drown it out and I can still hear her over it. It's depressing. Her other trick is having friends over at 3 AM and then playing "who can shout the loudest." Usually this is accompanied by crappy pop music.

I just don't know what to do anymore. My quality of life is so negatively impacted. Here I am being selfish now -- I would really like to be able to sleep from 11 AM to 8 AM in peace. This is the one part of NYC living that I hate. This is why I am willing to go into debt to move. The search for peace sends me looking for a new home.

The highs and lows of apartment hunting in NYC

I have been checking out apartments for a couple of weeks now, and until today nothing in Soho or Nolita had impressed me. That's both good and bad -- good because I haven't saved up all the necessary pennies yet and bad because, well, who wants to see a bunch of lousy apartments?

My not-broker from Mark David dumped me on Tuesday. She called me over the weekend about two apartments (one of which was in Chinatown and one of which was in Financial District. For those scoring at home, NEITHER of those are in the neighborhoods I want to live in). I told her not to make me her first priority since I don't want to pay a broker's fee. On Monday she called me about two more apartments. One was again out of the question but she hit me with one that was in Soho so I asked to set up a viewing after work. I wrote her around 11 AM, and at 2 she replied to say she was booked for the day. I guess she took my advice about prioritizing a little too seriously. Then on Tuesday I get this nice cryptic email from her...

Building owners offer to pay our fee when they are having trouble getting their apartments rented (because they stink). When you can’t find a no-fee apartment that you love, let me know and we’ll find you one that you do - and we can negotiate a fee that you feel comfortable with.

Unless that fee is $0, there is no negotiation to hold. I can understand her not wanting to spend time on a renter who isn't willing to pay a fee. But it was unnecessary to instill doubt. Because of course I started thinking, damn what if she's right? What if all the by-owner apartments are shit holes that they can't rent?

The Gods of renting must have taken pity on me because today I saw a beautiful apartment. It was in the by-owner listings of Craiglist, a $2495/1BR in Soho on Sullivan St in between Prince and Houston.

1 Bedroom, GORGEOUS BRAND NEW RENOVATION, Brick Walls, Hard Wood floors, High ceilings, Huge bedroom, LOTS OF LIGHT, skylight and good closets. Located in heart of SOHO by BEAUTIFUL PRINCE STREET near all shopping, restaurants and transportation/trains: B,C,D,F,V,1,9. OPEN HOUSE Thursday, October 16th, 12-1p.m. by appointment: xxx-xxx-xxxx. no brokers please.

I called the number and scheduled a viewing. The ad was a bit off -- viewings between 11 AM and noon, not noon to 1. But whatever. I met a management company rep at Once Upon a Tart on Sullivan. I have to admit I was trying to avoid Thompson and Sullivan because they are a little too close to work for comfort. But the street was so charming! The area reminds me very much of Europe, with short walkups and lots of little cafés. She was late so I had plenty of time to guess which building the apartment was in.

I was wrong about which building it was in, but no matter. She took me up the block a bit to a 5-story walkup. I've gotten over the walkup thing. I want to live on a high floor and my friends barely ever come over anyway. Plus it's exercise. This rep really knew her shit about the building and the neighborhood. (Again, for those scoring at home, this is a big deal!) I gasped excitedly when she told me the building was co-op. I know that could raise some issues because the boards are very strict, but I was excited because that meant I was so much likely to have a crazy, loud neighbor upstairs like I currently do.

Approximate layout
of the apartment.

Once on the 5th floor, she opened the apartment. What a charmer! You walked in and immediately stepped up to a small kitchen/living area. The kitchen was just a small corner outside the bathroom but that is fine with me. Somehow it had more cabinets than I currently have anyway. (Though I have no idea where my cool Ikea Kroken wall rails and Järpen shelves with Håll brackets would go.) The bathroom was huge -- the toilet in a water closet setup with a tub and sink just around the bend. The sink was just a pedestal but there was plenty of room for a cabinet. One oddity -- there was a skylight directly above the toilet. I have no clue how I'd handle that; something would have to diffuse the view or else I'd never be able to do my business.

Back to the tiny living area. It would probably hold my couch and TV. There was a north-facing window but the radiator was right in front of it. I would need a clever TV setup to not block the radiator, and the cable line was on the other side...small quibbles though. The bedroom was a decent size and had two small but workable closets. It had two large folding doors, so I could open or close them at my leisure to let me light into the living area. It also had two large East-facing windows with a great view of neighboring buildings. Since the apartment was in the back of the building it was very quiet. And so much light!! I was in love.

Overall, I'd guesstimate the apartment is the same size as my current place -- about 275 sq. feet. I had forgotten my tape measure...broke my own rules. So if my estimate is correct I'd have the same amount of space, but no backyard, and oh yeah I'd be paying $675 more per month for the Soho location. Still it was by far the nicest place I've seen and I could see myself being very happy there. And did I mention how close to work it was? See what I mean about talking yourself into decent when everything before sucked?

I asked about fees -- there was only a $250 application fee. No credit check fee. And NO BROKER'S FEE HALLE-FRIGGIN- JEULAH! Ahem. I asked the rep to fax me an application and we parted with a cordial handshake. I planned to apply without a guarantor even though I make less than 40x the rent. I was confident I could convince a co-op board that I'm awesome.

Back at work I called BFF M immediately and excitedly told her about the place. She gasped at the price but was supportive. Then I called my sister. My wonderful sister who was my guarantor on my current apartment and who went through hell with me getting our cashier's checks in order thanks to ambiguous instructions from a broker. Anyway, I asked if she would lend me a one-month deposit for this Soho apt which I would pay back in part once I got my current deposit back. She agreed, but cautioned me to do a budget. Such a practical person.

So I hung up and did a budget. It wasn't pretty. Before my current job I paid more than half my fulltime income towards rent...I'd supplement with occasional contractor jobs. With my new job I am paying less than half towards rent and it's great! But if I took the Soho place I'd once again be paying over 60% of my income towards rent. It was hard enough to swallow for $1750/mo but it was choking me at $2495/mo. For one thing, if I (God forbid) lost my job I don't think I could ask my family to help me pay rent that high. I had planned to take a part-time retail job for the holiday season but now I would pretty much depend on that money to have any disposable income. It was kind of scary. I could get by without a part-time job but I would have no cushion to fall back on. Suddenly the charmer apartment seemed more like a tempting demon.

I filled out the application anyway, just for kicks. Then I called the rep to iron out the details. That was when the second bomb dropped -- this apartment required first, last and security. An extra month I hadn't planned for. I knew then that this apartment was out of reach for me. I was not comfortable having $5000 in security just sitting around doing nothing. So I begrudingly told the rep I could not apply and asked her to keep me in mind if any of her other buildings yielded openings.

Perhaps it is for the best. This showed me I should really get my finances squarely in order. I need to save up at least a security deposit so I don't have to depend on the kindness of my sister. And I should pay off my credit cards. I am sad though. That apartment was very cute.

Also, I am vindicated, Dashboard Confessional style. Awesome apartment, no broker required. Take that, Mark David lady!

Me vs. ConEd, update

Well, Con-Ed never showed up for their appointment this week. I called my representative from the high bill department and he has not called me back. I have no idea what to even do at this point. I've decided to stew over it this weekend and then take action on Monday. They are really impressing me with how inept they truly are. It's enough to make me want to run for mayor.

Me vs. ConEd, again

I feel like I just can't win with ConEd. Every couple of months it seems like they are out to get me. It wasn't enough for them to screw me out of gas for over a month. It wasn't enough for them to try to trick me into changing my electricity provider to a 3rd party that charges 2-3 times more. And even threatening to shut off our building's common area electricity didn't satiate their need for suffering. No, no, once again they had to come after me.

Each month, my ConEd bill ranges from $50-$65. Sometimes the bills are "estimated usage" and sometimes they are actual meter readings. But always in the same range. This has been the case steadily for over year. So you can imagine my shock when I got a bill this month for $325. This can't be right, I told myself. The explanation was this:

Dear Customer, we know that we have been sending you estimated bills for the past few months. Well we finally read your meter and (chuckle chortle) guess what? It turns out that we underbilled you for the last 4 months. By a lot. Yeah we don't know why you used so much more electricity this year than last year. No, we don't really care why and we don't think it's our mistake. Oh, and we know we already billed you our best guess for those last 4 months but we're gonna go ahead and re-bill you now! Yeah, we can do that. Isn't it great?! It's like your name came up in the screw you lottery this month. It's like winning...for us. And there's really nothing you can do about it. We have no oversight. Go ahead and call your politician whatever person. The Public Service Commission? Drowning in complaints like yours, and for much more money. Call us if you want! We'll just yell at you and tell you you're an idiot.

Should you choose not to pay, we will send the mob after you. Whoops, we mean collections. So just go ahead and pay this bill that makes absolutely no sense. Or else. Whoops, we mean please. And could you please bend over? It makes it that much easier for us to kick you in the ass.

Love,
ConEd xoxxoxoxo

Or in more business-y terms, ConEd said that they were able to read my meter for the first time in 4 months and they are re-billing me for May-September. The new cost? About $121 per month. I LIVE IN A 200 SQUARE FOOT APARTMENT ON THE FIRST FLOOR. I have a northern exposure -- hardly any light. I barely ever have to run my air conditioning. I don't leave anything on while I am gone during the day. My refrigerator is not running all the time. You have got to be kidding me.

The total bill was $454, but they applied the amount I'd been paying on my bills each month. So I'm left owing $325. I was so unbelievably mad. I called my parents; I called T; I called BFF M; I wanted to call the cops for robbery. I emailed the Consumerist tips line but never heard back (I guess even they have bigger fish to fry). I did research and found that I am unfortunately not the only one going through this. Then I called ConEd.

I had a lovely 45 minute wait time to practice what I wanted to say. I'll just summarize our conversation: he said there was nothing ConEd could do. That was on Saturday. The next day I called back and opened a bill dispute. Today a rep from their "high bill" department called me back. He tried pulling me into an argument, but I kept calm and stood my ground: I am disputing the bill. We scheduled a meter re-read and he recommended I get my Super to check the meter while I unplug everything to see if the meter is still running (if so, something besides my apartment is running to the meter).

There are three possible outcomes: 1 - ConEd discovers the meter was incorrectly read. 2 - Something besides my apartment is running into my electric meter. 3 - I am wrong, ConEd is right and I pay the bill. Update to come after next week's meter reading. What makes me so upset is that ConEd was allowed to send me "estimated bills" on a monthly basis. Why the hell are they allowed to do that? Shouldn't that be, oh I don't know, illegal? And who do I bother who can actually do something about this?

Me vs. my upstairs neighbor

For the last several months I have not gotten a full night's sleep. No, it's not insomnia or me being a social butterfly. It's because of my neighbor upstairs, or more specifically her animals.

It started way back in December when she first moved in and has been getting progressively worse. She has two cats and a dog in an apartment the same size as mine and they are very active at night. Add in a late-nite vacuuming habit and the sound of chairs scraping over hardwood and you have a recipe for one cranky Roxy. I have spoken to her at least once a month. Each time I get a sob story (I'm working three jobs! I can't afford food for them!) and promises to try harder. I think I've been pretty fair -- I asked her to please get a rug or crate the animals at night. Not to get rid of the animals, not to move, just please keep them quiet between 10 PM and 9 AM.

I can't watch a movie when the animals are running around. I can't concentrate on my writing. I can't really enjoy my apartment. But my neighbor doesn't really seem to care. I've gotten suggestions ranging from sane (call the cops) to insane (buzz her door every overnight when it starts). I tried calling 311. They referred me to the housing department who said -- get this -- we can't do anything unless the dog is barking. My head hurts trying to figure that one out. I called the cops who refused to come. They said I had to talk to my landlord first. If my landlord refused to do anything then I could call them back. Ok, fine. Red tape and I are quickly becoming great friends in Manhattan.

So finally I knew I had to escalate this to non-Super. Whether I liked it or not neither I nor my guests talking to the neighbor had done anything and it was time to escalate. As usual it took me about two weeks before I could actually get in touch with non-Super, who promised to talk to upstairs neighbor. That was in April. I gave it a month as the noise continued to pound away at my sanity.

Come May 1st I started calling non-Super every day at various times between 9 AM and 5 PM. I finally got in touch with non-Super about a week later. Again, promises to talk to the neighbor. Again, no action.

A few days ago after a particularly hard day at work I came home at 8 PM and collapsed on my couch. My head was pounding and I just needed to unwind. But 5 minutes later upstairs neighbor came home and the noise started immediately. Completely fed up, I called non-Super after hours and refused to hang up until some action would be taken. Non-Super came over immediately. Thank the lord.

Ten minutes later, a knock at my door as a crying upstairs neighbor and non-Super told me they'd talked through some ideas so that I could actually sleep. That night, for the first time in months, I slept through the entire night. No noise. And since, it's been a lot better at night. Sometimes I still hear noise but it usually stops within an acceptable amount of time. The days are unfortunately not much better but at this point I'm not ready to escalate again.

The biggest question in my mind is how are there no laws about this? And who thought it would be smart to build paper-thin floors?

Of doors and being locked out

So close and yet so far.

I'm a little embarrassed about this whole situation, but it's worth sharing. Yesterday, I locked myself out of my apartment.

What a gorgeous day yesterday was! It started off drizzly and none too promising but by lunch the sun had come out and it warmed up nicely. All the trees' buds are ready to pop and spring is almost here. It was way too beautiful of a day to be inside. I have a doggy visitor at the moment from the NYC Shiba Rescue and I didn't want him to spend all day inside. So I decided to work from my backyard so he and I could both enjoy the weather.

Now, I'm normally one of those OCD people who carries my keys around at all times and triple checks every time I leave the apartment to make sure I have my keys. I can't tell you how many times I panicked thinking I'd lost them only to find them right in my hand or find myself checking for them immediately after I locked my door with them. But yesterday I just trotted out into my backyard with the dog and let the door close behind me. I was in my friggin backyard. It wasn't like I had left.

My yard is abutted by other building neighbors' yards on all sides, and one of them was also taking advantage of the weather with some friends. After about 15 minutes I decided I was thirsty and tried to head inside to get a drink of water.

I walked up the the door and pulled. Nothing happened. I tried rotating the knob. Nothing happened. My heart sank into my stomach. This stupid knob has gotten stuck before and I could clearly see that the pins weren't quite settled in the door jam but were far enough in to keep me from pulling the door open. Unbelievable -- I was locked out from my own backyard. Even worse, there is no access to the street or back into my building from the backyard besides my apartment and the apartment next to me. And my lone window has bars on it since I'm a ground floor tenant. I was trapped.

After a few more minutes of futile attempts I walked over to the chain-link fence separating yards and sheepishly asked the neighbor if they had a credit card I could borrow to try to shim the door. They politely lent me one (making identity theft jokes the whole time, and who could blame them?) but it didn't work. I had to go back over and ask the guy if I could walk through his apartment to get outside. There was a chance my front door was unlocked. At first it looked like I was going to have to scale the 8 foot fence with barbed wire on top but we were able to shimmy the gate open between our yards. What a nice guy though. Letting some stranger walk through his home.

I left the dog in the backyard because I had no leash and feared he would break free on the street. He didn't mind -- he was making new friends. I ran around to the front of my building and started buzzing every apartment. I had to laugh at myself while doing it. Finally, one of the apartments answered and I cried: "i'mreallysorryi'myourneighborilockedmyselfoutpleaseletmein!!" And he did.

The moment of truth...I walked up to my apartment door and tried turning the knob. Nope. I was truly locked out. I could not believe it. I ran upstairs and knocked on the buzzer's door. Would you be willing to call non-Super, I asked. He did, but no answer (shocking, I know). He didn't have non-Super's cell number and the work line has no answering machine. So I was screwed. No one else has keys to my apartment.

Then, I remembered the locksmith who had changed my keys when I first moved in. He was right at the end of my block. I raced down there and luckily he was open -- I'm glad it was Saturday and not Sunday. After quoting me $65, he said he would be there in a minute. Weirdly, he asked what apartment I was in. What was he gonna do, buzz the apartment I was locked out of?

I ran back home and the friendly buzzy neighbor let me back in. I started to worry about the dog -- was he OK? Was he trying to dig into other yards or worse, jump the fence? I finally decided to knock on next-door super-loud talky neighbor's door. I was afraid, with my bitterness towards her loud conversations lately, that karma would be a bitch and she wouldn't be home. But after a couple of tries she answered. Karma picked the perfect day to take off. I explained the situation and she graciously allowed me into the backyard from her apartment. Sure enough, the dog was just chilling by the fence, investigating the neighbors.

I grabbed him (he's pickupable) and waited in the lobby for the locksmith. He arrived a few minutes later and as I'd predicted tried buzzing my apartment. I just opened the door to let him in. So the guy is really nice and I was thankful he was there, but he wasn't really listening when I explained the situation to him. I told him my front door was locked and I'd locked myself out through the backyard. Then again, how many NYC apartments even have more than one entrance? He wanted to try the front door first. After 20 minutes of attempted shims, I said again that door was locked and asked if he wanted to try the back door. No, he said. This door.

It was really weird. I guess I was expecting him to be like in the movies -- shine a light in the lock and pick it. But nope. Just a metal shim. Ten minutes later, he agreed to try the backdoor. Next-door neighbor let us through. The locksmith was trying to use two screwdrivers to pry the bars from their stuck spot. I was beginning to think it was futile -- he would have to drill.

A few minutes later I was petting the dog and wondering how much new locks were going to set me back, when the locksmith told me to come pull the door. I did -- AND IT OPENED. Hallelujah! I had been so close to everything -- my phone, my keys, my apartment, and yet so far.

I sat on my bed dumbfounded for a few minutes before promising to make a spare set of keys on Monday and give them to someone. I decided T wasn't a good option since it could have unnecessary meaning attached to it, so instead I called BFF M. She laughed at my story and agreed.

And I will now be more crazy about my keys than ever.

Con-Ed threatens my building by letter

Ugh. As if I'm not already stressed enough at work, my homelife has been equally stressful as of late. About two weeks ago all the residents of my building received a letter from Con-Ed. To paraphrase, it said because the management company hadn't paid the building's utility bill Con-Ed would be shutting off our gas and electricity on March 10. This is not the first time this has happened since I've moved in so I pretty much ignored it.

But then earlier this week another letter came. This one had a serious tone to it -- we're shutting off the power in 10 days, here's who to contact if you're old and can't care for yourself, etc. I started to think this was for real. How can Con-Ed do this, I wondered. I pay my bill on time every month. I'm guessing my neighbors do too. It seems very draconian. Landlord owes general area money -- no power for you! Sorry; sincerely, Con-Ed the tyrannical bastards.

On top of that, a war of noise has been declared between my next-door neighbor and the neighbor upstairs. I somehow missed the announcement but I've been living through the battles. The girl next door and I have a common wall, and I've always been able to tell when she's on the phone or watching TV. While I used to just hear muffled talking, now it's clear as day. Whether I want to or not I know the details of her weekend exploits and how terrible her coworker is and how she hates her friends and other such shit that I really could not care less about. I had T over for a faux romantic dinner last week and the mood was completely ruined by her screaming at some guy about how mean it was for him to ditch her at some bar. T finally went and knocked on her door -- she apologized and then went right back to screaming. My God.

It infuriates me; especially late at night when I'm trying to sleep. I really take care to be polite to my neighbors -- my TV and stereo are on the far wall, not the common wall. I don't vacuum after 10 PM, I turn my TV down late at night, I don't do dishes late or early. Yeah, I have parties like anyone and they can get a bit loud. But they're more the exception than the rule.

I think neighbor next door has been prompted by neighbor above. The one with the dog. I love dogs -- all animals really -- but all I want to do right now is march up there and throw the thing out the window. Like all the apartments in the building, neighbor above has wood floors. Combine that with a small dog and it's a formula for disaster. The dog literally spends hours romping back and forth across the uncovered apartment floor. When it's not doing that, it's chewing and dropping a rawhide on the floor, bouncing a Kong or generally making noise.

There's a city ordinance that says you need to cover at least 80% of your hardwood floors with carpeting and neighbor above is exactly the reason why. Besides the dog, she also scrapes chairs across the floor and vacuums in the middle of the night. My God -- again! I partially blame whoever installed the hardwood because they obviously laid the floor right on top of the concrete subfloor without putting down any kind of soundproofing layer.

Anyway, I've also spoken to neighbor above on a couple of occasions about the noise. It really ruins my night when awoken at 2 AM by Kong hitting floor. Over. And over. It's gotten so bad that T won't even spend the night anymore. He's not a sadist, he says. Meanwhile I'm in danger of going insane.

And finally, to complete the trifecta there is non-Super, who disappeared off the face of the Earth again. I had tons of cardboard boxes in my apartment from all the furniture I've purchased. I tried for weeks to coordinate with non-Super to get it removed but finally had to call the building maintenance guy. I raked the leaves in my backyard and the bags are still out there because I don't know when I can put them out. I want to paint one of my walls but haven't been able to reach non-Super to get permission.

None of these things alone are a big deal. But put them altogether and you've got a perfect storm. I have no peace at home -- the one place where I should be able to go to escape. It's made me miserable, irritable, and in case you can't tell, pretty whiny.

UPDATE Tuesday: I finally reached my non-Super today. I had included a letter with my rent talking about the noise and asking for permission to paint. Non-Super agreed to talk to the neighbors (not holding my breath) and will let me paint. Also said not to worry about the letter -- it happens all the time. That makes me feel much better.

Is that you Santa? No, it's just my upstairs neighbor

Click clack, click clack. From above comes the sound of hooves, or in this case shoes and paws. The apartment above me that had been empty for a couple of months has been rented. Like my apartment, I believe the management company renovated it and put in hardwood floors. I think that they forgot the soundproof layer between the subfloor and the wood though because I can hear every little fucking noise coming from up there.

It's driving me nuts! Every time the dog comes back from a walk it runs around. 10 minutes of click click click making my eyes tic. Every time the desk chair is pulled back ...screeeeeeeeecccchhhh (I guess the tenant doesn't care about scratching those nice new floors). The best is when I get the combination of Santa Baby traipsing around upstairs and my next door neighbor screaming to her friends on the phone. A cacophonic chorus of unpleasantness. But the worst, THE WORST, is that my new neighbor likes to vacuum at 2 in the goddamn morning, every morning. What could she possibly be vacuuming?? I break the thing out maybe once a month for my rug. It could be worse I suppose. The sounds have been innocent so far.

Initially I thought I was nuts and making too big of a deal about it. It's not like I live in a monastery -- I can make noise at times too. I put on my MP3 player to sing, dance and jump around like a madwoman for pete's sake. But when two of my boys who are also Manhattannites came over and commented on how loud it was, I knew I had a legitimate complaint.

My boys had good suggestions - try talking to the neighbor and mentioning that the former tenants had rugs and it worked out well. Ask her if she's considered felt pads for her furniture. And politely mention that as a dog lover I respect a dog's need to chew a rawhide and fetch, but the constant clip clopping of paws and plopping of said rawhide proves quite annoying to your neighbor down below.

Coincidentally, I ran into my new neighbor at the building's entrance. And she is quite nice. I didn't realize it was her until the very end of our conversation so I was unable to mention the issue. It's not like I blame her personally -- she probably doesn't even know it's an issue. And my management company? They're less than sympathetic.

Friends don't stiff friends

I hate money issues.

I'm in kind of an awkward situation at the moment. I am still owed my deposit from my last place. Except it's not the landlord who owes me; it's one of my friends. We had an open lease and the deal was you paid the deposit to the person who lived in your room before you. Coincidentally, the guy I replaced ended up moving back in. When I moved in he was kind about giving me some time to give him the whole deposit. I paid him half when I moved in, and the other half two months later.

I moved out in August and I haven't received any of my deposit back from him. To be fair, he moved in mid-September. I'm friends with one of my old roommates and my replacement and it's been kind of weird. They let me go back up there to do my laundry. We always go out and party and we all always drop some coin. But lately I've been getting fed up because my replacement hasn't even made a good faith gesture (i.e. talking to me about repaying me).

The situation is further complicated because he originally moved out to start his own business, and while the business is now doing fine, my friend lost a ton of money and had to go back to his old job while his partner runs the business. So he's still trying to pick himself back up financially. I feel bad and don't want to press him because of this. But I was in a similar situation when I moved in -- my college loans were close to defaulting and I was struggling to pay my monthly bills. I still managed to put half my deposit in up front. When he asked me for the rest, I gave it to him immediately. He has not responded in kind.

The deposit is not huge but it is a good chunk of change. I feel like our friendship is being strained by it. It's the 800 lb. gorilla in the room...and other raging metaphors. I mostly feel like it's so lame that I have to be the one to press this! The guy is in his 30s and should be more responsible than this.

Part of me wishes I was rich enough to just let it go...but I feel like I shouldn't even have to. It's the passive aggressive bullshit that kills.

Finally, good karma comes my way

If there is a silver lining in being miserably sick, it's that people feel sorry for you. Normally I am loathe to appear weak but in my weakened state I am glad to have people take pity on me. My uncontrollable coughing fits get looks of sympathy (and contempt) on the subway. On the walk to work from the train I've had people thrice ask me if I need help or if I'm OK. It's touching how sweet New Yorkers can be.

Yesterday after work I had to go see the doctor again. He'd asked to see me because he wanted to make sure my lungs were clear. Since I've missed a bit of work I wanted to work late and make up some time. As a result, I had to get from work into Harlem in about 35 minutes. Not a rush but cutting it pretty close.

My plan was to take the 6, hop onto an express at Grand Central, and then change back at 86th St. But I ended up waiting almost 10 minutes for a train at 23rd St, which threw a monkey wrench into my plan. I lucked out that I was right in front of the door when the train stopped, so I was able to squeeze on. Plan B was to take the 6 all the way. Unfortunately since this was the first train in a while, we got stuck at every station as commuters tried to maneuver in.

It took us 25 minutes to get to 59th St, and I knew I was screwed. I was the last doctor's appt of the day and I didn't want to be late. At 86th St I made the decision to jump out of the subway and take a taxi the rest of the way. I ran out of the tunnel and frantically hailed a cab. I told him the address -- 110st and 3rd. I had almost no cash with me, but now that taxis have those GPS thingies they take credit cards.

Except the cab I'd been picked up by didn't have the GPS. "Oh no," I said. "You don't take credit cards?" The cab driver shook his head no. "Let me see how much cash I have..." I looked in my wallet and found six mangled singles.

"I have six dollars. Will that get me to 110 st?" I asked. "We'll see how far that gets you," the driver replied. I leaned back as my leg shook with anxiety. There was nothing I could do but wait and see. And cough. Cough cough cough. (pause) COUGH cough cough cough. The running made my already sick lungs more out of breath.

I watched as the meter passed $4, then $5. We were only in the 90s, struggling through heavy traffic on 3rd Ave. We hit $6 at 101st St. I expected the driver to pull over and throw me out. Instead, he asked me "You only got $6, right?" Yes, I replied.

He shut off the meter and drove me the rest of the way. He shut off the meter! He dropped me off at my desired location, where I thanked him profusely and apologized for not being able to tip him. He told me to feel better. What a sweet driver! Nice things do happen sometimes.

I ended up having to wait at the clinic, but I didn't care. The doctor checked me out and declared me still sick, but with OK lungs.

Act 2 of good karma actually came at the end of last week. My apartment is finally (pretty much) done. Since moving in on August 18th, I had only used my stovetop/oven twice, and I'd stopped using my microwave in September when they put it on my stool because it was too tipsy. So I hadn't cooked in my apartment for 10 of the 11 weeks I've lived here.

On October 20th, one of the workers from the contractor's company came and put up my microwave. They did it wrong because no one was monitoring -- the microwave has a fan and light on the bottom and instead of mounting it on brackets above my stove they mounted it on a shelf -- making my fan and light useless, but at least it's up. I could finally cook!

That also meant it was time to pay rent. My non-Super had told me back in September to hold onto my rent until everything was done. Even though it wasn't perfect, I considered the apartment done enough. I called the non-Super four times over the next four days and never got a call back. All this rent money has been sitting in my bank account. If I had known it would have taken this long, I would have invested it in a short-term high-yield interest savings account.

Instead, my bank account balance has been deceptively high with rent money. I could have paid off my credit cards. I could have bought all the furniture I want. I could have bought the TV and speaker system and Xbox 360 I want. Or clothing. Or something else materialistic. But I've been good.

Home sick last Tuesday, I ran into my non-Super outside of my building. She asked when I could pay the rent and I told her to swing by on Nov. 1. I wanted to talk to her about a discount given everything I'd gone through but that was not the time. I was kind of dreading the conversation. I did not want to have a bad relationship with the non-Super, but I felt that I was on firm ground. I was afraid it would become an argument. Come the 1st, I tried calling her to arrange a pickup time but her voicemail was full. Argh. And yet I wasn't really surprised. My anxiety was prolonged.

On Friday she came by to collect the rent. I was incredibly nervous as I planned out how to ask for a discount. I showed her the microwave (she was upset about the shelf instead of brackets) and we discussed some other remaining issues, like the last tenant's name still being on the buzzer. Finally it was time to talk rent. I politely explained that I felt like since I couldn't use my kitchen since I'd moved in, I deserved a break on the rent.

I expected her to fight back, but instead she nodded and asked what I felt was fair. I proposed a half-month discount. She said that was fair. I probably could have asked for more given her response, but that's OK. I was just excited that I didn't have to fight about it. I wrote her a check for the rent owed minus the discount and all was good. Sometimes good things happen.

Receiving packages in NYC sucks!

In college, I always looked forward to getting my care packages. They always were filled with things that were bad for me like candy; things that were good for me like supplies; and things that were really good for me like generic gift certificates (aka cash).

So packages make me excited, Pavlovian style. A circle of three friends and I send each other care packages every month -- just something to make the day a little better. We usually fill them with the basic girly stuff: the latest chick lit novel, smelly candles, bath beads, and a funny movie. Nothing too serious. I've also been ordering a lot of home accessories online as I settle in.

In Connecticut we had a box on our front porch where UPS, USPS or Fedex would put our packages. The boxes that were too big would sit on the porch. No big deal. But now in the city receiving packages has become more of a hassle than I ever imagined. Since I have no doorman, I feel like I come home to the "sorry we missed you" slips once a week. The slips aren't a problem when they're from USPS, as I can just run down to the Post Office on 70th St to pick them up before work. But when they're from the UPS-Fedex-DHL trifecta, they become a pain in the ass.

For example, I ordered my space saver from Linens N Things online but when it came it was missing two support pieces. I was able to call the manufacturer directly and order the pieces. I arranged for them to be delivered at my apartment.

I don't know why I assumed that DHL would have a key for my building's front door, but I did. I figured we had double doors so like the mailman they could get into that first area and leave the package. But I was wrong. The delivery guy called me to ask if I could let him into the building. I was at work though. I asked if he could redeliver it after 6:30 PM but he could not. I ended up having to get DHL customer service to change my delivery address to work which was quite a hassle.

Since then, I've had similar dramas with UPS and Fedex. UPS was the nicest about changing my delivery address to work, but then the delivery guy delivered it to the wrong office and I had to go searching for my package. Which was really fun, let me tell you!

With these fun times in mind, I asked my chica trifecta if they could always mail my care packages through USPS so I could just pick it up at the post office. One of my pals is an environmental engineer and she's currently doing a study in rural Kansas. They get mail delivered once a week, so getting to the Post Office is kind of a pain for her. But UPS will drive out to her to pick up boxes (which is admittedly pretty damn cool of them). So this month it was her turn to send to me and she completely forgot the USPS deal. Sure enough, Friday night I came home to a slip. I called UPS and asked them to deliver to my work instead.

They did indeed change my address, but for some reason they tried delivering there over the weekend. Come Monday when I checked the tracking information, there was a note saying I'd have to pick up the package from UPS's delivery center. No biggie, I figured, until I called UPS and found out the delivery center was in middle-0f-nowhere Brooklyn. Not near any bus line. Not near any subway. Not going to work.

Now I've spent the last two days arguing with UPS about please delivering to my office when it is actually open. Yesterday I spent 4 hours on hold or getting shuffled around different customer service areas with them. I think I finally convinced them to just deliver the damn package. But all positive feelings associated with packages are now gone. In fact, I'm thinking of opening a store that just receives packages and holds them for people. I'll call it just gimme my goddamn package!

UPDATE 10/25: UPS delivered my package today and the driver actually took the time to apologize to me for the error. Then, about 20 minutes later, someone from the UPS center called to do the same. Awwww. That was really nice. They handled it right: they fessed up, and they apologized. Any hard feelings are erased that quickly.

Of kitchens and cooking

In weightloss, they say the last 10 lbs. are the hardest to lose. I feel like this metaphor could also apply to my kitchen - the last three things are the hardest to get done.

I attempted to cook an actual meal there last weekend with pretty disastrous results. My microwave is still precariously placed on my stool. So every time I opened my fridge I would hit the microwave with my butt, almost tipping it over. Then I had to slide past it, and every time I pulled a pot off the stove my left elbow and the microwave were on a collision course. My arm has been sore all week. I've given up on the thought of cooking an actual meal until the microwave is properly installed.

Last week I ran into my non-Super who told me the new shorter cabinet for above my stove was in. I was excited - would I actually have a finished apartment soon? The contractor was supposed to show a week ago Wednesday but didn't. What a jerk.

So I was thrilled when on Thursday night the real Super told me that the contractor was coming Friday to finish my kitchen. Finally! It was girls' night out so I didn't make it home until pretty late. I was half-expecting to walk in and see no difference. When I walked in my microwave was still on my stool, and I figured the contractor was a no-show again. Drunk and suddenly grumpy, I just went to bed.

This morning I actually looked in the kitchen, and there has been some progress. The shorter cabinet is installed over my stove but the microwave is not. Instead, there is a HUGE gaping hole in the wall. The Super had stuck some steel wool in there which was nice of him. He knows how scared I am of the mouse (who by the way, maybe dead somewhere in my apartment. That'll make for a fun search in about two weeks). I hope they're coming back to plaster the hole and put up the microwave - and soon.

The new hole.

Also, my middle cabinet now had glass doors instead of the wood doors. All I can say is yuck. First of all, the glass is see-through, instead of a diffused look I was expecting. My friend J liked the look a lot but it's not my taste. Secondly, the old wood doors had been flush with my other cabinets but these doors are not quite. Since it looks like the contractor is halfway done, I'm hoping this will be fixed. I'm really hoping he doesn't think he's done because I had a nice surprise in my backyard - trash, my old over-the stove cabinet and some pipes sitting outside on my chairs. Argh. They better be coming back!

The clear glass doors.

There was also some good news. My Super had been over two nights before to help me set up mouse traps. I told him about the light in my backyard not working, and this morning I noticed he had installed a new light! That made me very happy. I can finally chill outside at night. It wasn't all a loss. In the meantime, I'm planning a small project on the other side of the kitchen galley - a homemade extra counter top with narrow cabinets. If I can pull it off, it's going to look very cool. I have to practice my jigsaw skills first.

The poor microwave - still sitting
on my stool 7 weeks after moving in.

I was hungry, so I decided to warm up some oatmeal in the microwave. As you can see in the photo it wasn't plugged in. I opened the door and the tray had been messed with - I think maybe they tried to install it? But the news got worse - I plugged it in and nothing happened. It didn't come on, nothing. Shit. Did they break my microwave?!? There aren't even words.

Logic set in, and tried another outlet. No dice. Finally I realized the circuit breaker switch must have flipped. Sure enough, it just needed to be reset. What a relief - no microwave would have been a true apartment disaster.