Call For Aid
(Upshot: I'm moving THIS weekend, Manhattanites, and I could use a little help! There's a dinner in it for all of you.)
My long national nightmare is over. But the last hurdle is this: I need to pack stuff in boxes and actually move. And that means I'll need help. But not much.
The last post turns out to have been an error, which is why I don't put any stock in miracle-seeming events. I went back to that place in Brooklyn a day later, met one of my soon-to-be roommates, and asked her, "So how are things here?" If the neighborhood was awful, she, as a single woman living alone, would be particularly sensitive to it. But she said, "Oh, the neighborhood is fine. But this place is just not ready to be rented out! I've been here for three months and on my floor we haven't had any cold water. We've been taking baths, waiting for the water to cool, because the shower scalds people. They keep saying they'll fix it, but it hasn't happened yet. Then a few nights ago part of the ceiling gave way and water poured directly on to my bed. There's also a huge bug problem. Really---everyone you see here is planning to move out. The people seem nice, and I'm sure they mean well. But this place just isn't ready to live in."
In desperation I went to manhattanapartments.com, one of those places that advertises a million times a day on Craigslist, where they promise you $125 a week rooms in Manhattan, and they'll fix you up ASAP. "What's the catch?" you may ask. There doesn't seem to be one. Except, of course, that the rooms are smallish and half-assed. Big deal. (Note that if you ever want to use this service, use the one on 40th street between Park and Lex. The one at 141st street---don't know their name---has gotten lots of complaints.) So I put down money yesterday for a $120-a-week place at 157th and Broadway, which is so close to the 157th street 1 station that on the large subway map my place is actually obscured by the you-are-here dot.
So I'm going to be living for the next indeterminate length of time with a Dominican family in a very tiny run-down room that suits me just fine. The rest of the apartment is SO old-school and Hispanic---plastic on the furniture, little corner case full of china dolls, a giant porcelain rooster in the kitchen for no discernible reason---that I feel very much like a guest, like one of those boarders momma had to take in during the war in every 1940s-era drama I've ever seen. The best thing is that the room is furnished (after a fashion) with a bed and a desk. So I only need to move five things: 1.) my TV, 2.) my computer and printer, 3.) one bookshelf, 4.) another bookshelf, and 5.) all my remaining books, DVDS, and clothing, which should come to about ten boxes.
How can you help? Well, my friend Andy has promised to help me with his car. Hooray! So now all I need is a few hands. The move itself will be really fast because, a.) I'm not moving much, and b.) I'm only moving about twenty short blocks, and it's even downhill. Also, the building has an elevator. So what I need is:
Friendly Volunteers, Who Can Say Whether They'd Be Happier on Saturday or Sunday, and Where They'd Like to Eat. (I'm thinking Koreatown.)
A Source of Clean Boxes Fast.
I'll be contacting all interested parties by Wednesday or Thursday. In the meantime, let this be y'all'ses first warning. And thanks!
My long national nightmare is over. But the last hurdle is this: I need to pack stuff in boxes and actually move. And that means I'll need help. But not much.
The last post turns out to have been an error, which is why I don't put any stock in miracle-seeming events. I went back to that place in Brooklyn a day later, met one of my soon-to-be roommates, and asked her, "So how are things here?" If the neighborhood was awful, she, as a single woman living alone, would be particularly sensitive to it. But she said, "Oh, the neighborhood is fine. But this place is just not ready to be rented out! I've been here for three months and on my floor we haven't had any cold water. We've been taking baths, waiting for the water to cool, because the shower scalds people. They keep saying they'll fix it, but it hasn't happened yet. Then a few nights ago part of the ceiling gave way and water poured directly on to my bed. There's also a huge bug problem. Really---everyone you see here is planning to move out. The people seem nice, and I'm sure they mean well. But this place just isn't ready to live in."
In desperation I went to manhattanapartments.com, one of those places that advertises a million times a day on Craigslist, where they promise you $125 a week rooms in Manhattan, and they'll fix you up ASAP. "What's the catch?" you may ask. There doesn't seem to be one. Except, of course, that the rooms are smallish and half-assed. Big deal. (Note that if you ever want to use this service, use the one on 40th street between Park and Lex. The one at 141st street---don't know their name---has gotten lots of complaints.) So I put down money yesterday for a $120-a-week place at 157th and Broadway, which is so close to the 157th street 1 station that on the large subway map my place is actually obscured by the you-are-here dot.
So I'm going to be living for the next indeterminate length of time with a Dominican family in a very tiny run-down room that suits me just fine. The rest of the apartment is SO old-school and Hispanic---plastic on the furniture, little corner case full of china dolls, a giant porcelain rooster in the kitchen for no discernible reason---that I feel very much like a guest, like one of those boarders momma had to take in during the war in every 1940s-era drama I've ever seen. The best thing is that the room is furnished (after a fashion) with a bed and a desk. So I only need to move five things: 1.) my TV, 2.) my computer and printer, 3.) one bookshelf, 4.) another bookshelf, and 5.) all my remaining books, DVDS, and clothing, which should come to about ten boxes.
How can you help? Well, my friend Andy has promised to help me with his car. Hooray! So now all I need is a few hands. The move itself will be really fast because, a.) I'm not moving much, and b.) I'm only moving about twenty short blocks, and it's even downhill. Also, the building has an elevator. So what I need is:
Friendly Volunteers, Who Can Say Whether They'd Be Happier on Saturday or Sunday, and Where They'd Like to Eat. (I'm thinking Koreatown.)
A Source of Clean Boxes Fast.
I'll be contacting all interested parties by Wednesday or Thursday. In the meantime, let this be y'all'ses first warning. And thanks!
Labels: Dave Update
posted by Cowboy Dave Dickerson | 6:03 AM
1 Comments:
As for a source of clean, free boxes fast: liquor stores, baby. They toss out a billion boxes every day and are used to people who are moving coming in and asking for them. And those boxes are the perfect size for books and CDs.
Post a Comment
<< Home