My Love Is True and Unyielding. Until the Fire Alarm Goes Off.
Posted by Moose on April 15th, 2008. Filed under: Love.I don’t particularly believe in love at first sight. But just because I don’t believe in it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. Several times. I’m not sure what this means for the rest of my belief systems, but that is a pondering for another day. A day when my neurons are firing briskly and my blood sugar is spiking from donuts rather than crashing thanks to a hearty breakfast of three spoonfuls of plain yogurt. (Plain yogurt. For breakfast. WHEN THERE IS BACON IN MY FRIDGE! What was I thinking?)
When I first walked into my new apartment, I fell. Hard. And not just because the door frame is a bit raised off the floor, causing the unwary to stumble upon entry. It was a chill gray day and I was still reeling from the suddenness of Life Change, a mere five days before. But I walked (stumbled) in and realized “I could be happy here.” Also, that I wanted to wrap the original 1918 kitchen up in my arms and smooch its glassfront cabinets until it pushed me away and ran for some vinegar to wipe my lip prints off its pristine surface.
The landlady pointed out the salient points: That was indeed a bit of a step, and, um, be careful. A pie cooling cupboard that opens to the outdoors. (So cherry pies can cool in their natural environment? Do cherry pies really need that much nurturing? Or do they just need to be eaten faster so we can’t hear the complaining about musty interiors and how they long, OH HOW THEY LONG, for a fresh breeze?)
Walking on the dark soft wood floors, I checked the closet (big enough for the shoes) and the living room (small enough that if you stand in the middle with your arms extended and sway drunkenly back and forth, you can touch both walls). In the back is a garden laden with blooming flowers and ample opportunity to filch lemons from the neighbor’s tree. There’s even a washing machine.
You know the story. Girl meets apartment, girl tosses her number on top of 30 other people’s numbers, girl waits breathlessly for a call, while assuming the apartment isn’t interested because that other woman had better shoes and a cell phone that didn’t drop its antenna on the apartment’s glossy floor.
Call comes, girl gets giddy, and immediately envisions a future involving pie and dinner parties where guests come in shifts. Girl hastily packs up stuff – somewhat aghast at the number of books she’s acquired, no wonder she’s always broke – moves in, and declares love in a rather embarrassing fashion. Girl cooks apartment tater tots and proceeds to eat them all herself.
Now, a few weeks later, I’m hitting the phase all new love must weather: Flaws, Finding Of. Faucets run cold for a good five minutes before grudgingly spitting forth lukewarm water. Sloping plaster above the floor forces furniture to wobble a good six inches from the walls, making the already doll-size space even smaller. Stuffing in my big red chair was such an ordeal that when I move again I will have to: 1) leave it in the apartment where it will languish for decades, 2) chop it into bite-size pieces with a sledge hammer or 3) set it on fire. Did I mention the lack of internet? THERE IS NO INTERNET. That sound you hear is my spleen scrabbling up my throat to escape and find a friendlier host, one with a larger stove and wifi.
But the crowning flaw – the one where, if my apartment was a man, I would be having worried conversations with my friends about his viability - is the fire alarm. Specifically, the pitch at which it shrieks. Not because I’ve filled the house with scorched fish sauce – the way I usually set off the fire alarm – but because I’M TAKING A SHOWER. Yes, my showers set off the fire alarm. Forcing me to dash out of the bathroom, wet and shivering, and leap onto the bed to frantically wave my towel in hopes of quieting such unholy decibels at 6:30 in the glorious a.m. My upstairs neighbor adores me and will soon demonstrate that adoration by lobbing a hand grenade through my window.
But I’m a firm believer in embracing a loved one’s flaws, even when they make you want to rip off your eyelashes with duct tape. A dripping dash down the hall in my birthday suit? So invigorating! Furniture doesn’t touch the walls? Guess I don’t have to buy any more furniture! Hand grenades lobbed through my window? I need more exercise anyway!
The internet thing, though; that’s just mean. Someone better pony up with an extra pie cooling cabinet for that.
(P.S. Pictures coming. I’m being squirrelly about taking photos before all the boxes are unpacked. No, I’m not unpacked yet. Yes, I’m embarrassed for me too.)
(Edit: In my rush to post something, anything, before this blog poofs out of existence, I may have ended on a sour note. I love my apartment. It’s perfect for me right now and I’m very happy with it. But I do reserve the right to rip the batteries out of the fire alarm so I can shower in peace.) (Was that another sour note? Blast!)
(Edit no. 2: Internet clarification – yes, I can get internet. Once I get my act together and have it hooked up, something I’ve been too busy to take care of because I’ve been racing around the city with my laptop searching for rogue internet so I can get my work done. Yes, I do realize this approach makes no sense at all. I admit I was hoping I could (ahem) borrow someone’s unsecured wireless for awhile. (Tendency Toward Sloth: Patent Pending.) Alas, the thick Edwardian floors deny me. As does everyone’s apparent foresight into my slothful leeching ways, because all 17 networks that pop up on my computer are secured.)
Related posts:
April 15th, 2008 at 10:52 am
Oh dear. Well, my house has a furnace that turns on only when the repair guys are here, mocking me, so my luck with houses is not the best. But this still sounds like a diamond in the rough to me.
Can’t they install internet? The phone guy comes out with a drill and some wires and just puts it in, right?
April 15th, 2008 at 10:56 am
I think the sound of this apartment! It sounds charming in that small apartment after a big life change can be. I lived in a place like that. I adored it. It was tiny, with barely a stove and I could see people’s feet as they walked by because it subterrian (basement) and overlooked the sweeping beauty of Lake Superior but mostly it made me feel better.
Of course, after a while it lost some of its charm but in my memory it will remain the place I started to feel better, to be me again and I guessed I learned to live with & love the flaws. HOWEVER, NO INTERNET?!?! That is like no bathroom… ACK!
April 15th, 2008 at 10:59 am
Internet admission: I can totally get it installed, I just need to make it happen. It’s one of those things where I feel too busy to take care of it, but once I do take care of it, I will be less busy, because I don’t have to scour the city with my laptop for rogue internet connection. Go figure.
April 15th, 2008 at 11:01 am
I am just dying in anticipation of the pie-cooling rack photos.
April 15th, 2008 at 11:03 am
Wait! I don’t understand how there can be no Internet! I thought a man could just come in a Comcast truck and install it or something — that’s what happened to us, anyway. Want me to get Sean on the case? He knows about things like Wireless Internet, The Getting Of.
Also, my smoke detector used to start going off the minute I even THOUGHT about turning the oven on. Seriously, I could be at my office all the way across town and think “maybe I’ll make a Shepherd’s Pie tonight” and BLAM! The smoke detector would start wailing in my apartment because I’d dared to insinuate that I might need the oven at 400 degrees that evening.
Eventually, we just took the batteries out. I know, I know, when you find me in an incinerated heap in the hallway after there’s been a REAL fire, you can tell me you told me so. We did keep the smoke detector in the bedroom, though, so there’s that.
April 15th, 2008 at 11:39 am
Your apartment sounds like the first one I had when I lived in Vancouver! Except I had no pie-cooling cupboard.
I want one! I am going to speak to Honey, who is the King of Stuff, The Building Of.
Because once I have a pie-cooling cupboard, then maybe I’ll actually attempt to make my very first pie.
April 15th, 2008 at 11:52 am
If it makes you feel better, the Navy moves us every couple of years, and each time we move we ALWAYS find several boxes that we never bothered unpacking from the last move. And even the initial unpack-and-put-away phase usually takes us a good three or four months to complete. Okay, maybe it’s more like six.
April 15th, 2008 at 12:30 pm
The small living room may prove as a benefit when drunk, you may never hit the ground when falling…you’ll just end-up leaning against a wall. As for the smoke detector and showers, hmm…? I’m thinking of the movie “Sliver”.
April 15th, 2008 at 12:50 pm
You had me at pie cooling cupboard. And a lemon tree? You California dwelling bastards are so damn lucky. Er, I mean, you can make LEMON MERINGUE PIE FROM SCRATCH! With FRESH LEMONS! Gads that would be delicious. BTW, I think unpacking in less than a month is an urban legend.
April 15th, 2008 at 12:54 pm
Oh, dear, indeed.
Did’ja sign a lease? Or is it easier just to adapt, rather than having to think about moving again?
How about disconnecting that durned fire alarm (or yanking out the battery)? Or is that just plain foolishness and too risky?
Mmmmm, plain yogurt and bacon. Together. On toast points!
April 15th, 2008 at 2:26 pm
My honey will fix your smoke-detector-wanna-be-steam-detector if you will bake him a pie. It’s what he said.
(Don’t look at me. I don’t like pie.)
April 15th, 2008 at 2:43 pm
A good rule of thumb is that all awesome apartments have a few wacky-yet-lovable quirks. They’re like old cars!
And as you know, I’m living vicariously through you now, hanging on your every Hayes Valley syllable. Tell us more! Tell us more!
You know, you could post some initial pictures. It’s okay if you haven’t unpacked. We wouldn’t judge…
April 15th, 2008 at 3:03 pm
The heat from our oven sets of the fire alarm, but I think you take the cake with this one… Or the pie… Hope you still love it a long time from now!
April 15th, 2008 at 4:09 pm
I don’t understand how there cannot be Internet. Is it just that you maybe haven’t hooked it up yet? I mean, I don’t want to be patronizing, but seriously: no Internet? Is that even possible? The thought makes me shudder. (Or maybe that is just the shaking from even thinking about Internet withdrawals.)
April 15th, 2008 at 4:38 pm
You need to warn your readers before you use “Bacon” and “Pie-Cooling Cupboard” in the same post. Total sensory overload. I’ll be over here…recovering on the floor…next to the empty pie pan.
Can’t wait for pictures!
April 15th, 2008 at 4:52 pm
It scares me when I am the voice of reason. The smoke detector is dirty. The steam is getting stuck in dust and the little fucker cannot breathe.
Call the landlord and ask them to change it out – it is like a $20 fix and it means they will have ample warning before their building burns all the way to the ground on that night when you have too much wine and leave the tots in the over for a billion hours.
April 15th, 2008 at 4:57 pm
Oh, Mere. You crack me up. Too much wine + tots roasting for hours = something I would absolutely do.
Is anyone else afraid of the damage I could inflict on myself and my chosen edifice while living alone? I think you must be. I can hear the internet cringing on my behalf.
April 15th, 2008 at 7:44 pm
Have I mentioned that I live in a bungalow that was built at the turn of the century for cowhands to bunk in on a dairy?
And that it was built BY the cowhands in their spare time?
AND that since it was built for and by cowhands there is NOTHING cool in my house that other houses its age has in it?
That said, they were really adept at making corners that are not totally square so ya know…It’s all good.
April 15th, 2008 at 9:53 pm
I don’t usually comment, but I just wanted to ask, have you asked any of your neighbors if they might be interested in sharing their wireless connections? I don’t really even know any of my neighbors very well, but was in a similar spot re. lack of internet, and stuck a few notes under a few doors. Sure enough, someone responded, and I now pay only $10/month to share a connection with my next-door neighbor! Something to consider?
April 16th, 2008 at 7:08 am
Fast, intense love like that always fades quickly.
April 16th, 2008 at 9:23 am
Oh, I’ve had the same exact experience but with lovely firemen busting through my door since the alarm was hard-wired to the fire station. There is nothing better than being soaking wet, hastily wrapped in a towel while frantically trying to stop the alarm while burly men shoulder into your tiny apartment. Christ, that sounds like the start of an adult fim- doesn’t it?
April 16th, 2008 at 11:58 am
You have a pie cupboard and a lemon tree? What is this nirvana in which you live?? Add me to the list of readers who can’t wait to see pictures!
I remember the first apartment I had by myself when I first moved from sticks to the big city and I loved it. It was quaint (read falling down around my ears) and cozy (read exceptionally small) and hot water was pretty much non existent but I found it, lived in it, felt like a grown up and loved every minute there until I discovered what more amenities (read hot water) could mean to a girl’s life.
I look back on it now and still remember how happy I was there. And if memory serves – the fire alarm was in the hall so that all of the tenants would “hear it” and evacuate. My mother had my father drive up and install one in my place pronto.
April 16th, 2008 at 12:41 pm
Aha! Another soul with sloping floors! I moved offices yesterday, and while not as traumatic, I posted this as part of my description:
“Behind me is a sad excuse for an office credenza, and I’m guessing the floor in here is uneven, because two of the drawers—containing my file folders—keep sliding open. I’ve pulled a MacGuyver on that one and taped them shut with black mockup tape. I’m pretty sure that’s a symbol of how often I go back through things once they are filed neatly away. Yeah…never.”
I’m sympathetic. But the pie thing sounds cool!
April 16th, 2008 at 1:54 pm
Ooh I can’t wait to meet her (your new place); she sounds positively lovely!
April 16th, 2008 at 2:28 pm
I’ve yet to finish packing from that time I moved a year ago. I haven’t had a dresser since July. That’s just sad. I can appreciate your being too busy to do stuff sentiment.
April 16th, 2008 at 10:25 pm
I second “the voice of reason.” Our fire alarm is right outside the bathroom and always went off during/after a shower. Took us 6 months before we decided to change the battery, or clean it, or something simple like that. I can’t quite remember because it’s been dead quiet ever since then! Hmm, I wonder if it’s working?
April 17th, 2008 at 12:12 pm
Our apartment is quite wee in size, and we love it. “Cozy” is the word we use to describe the size most often. And it is! Perfectly cozy.
(Um the pie cooling shelf? Sounds amazing. As does pie. Mmmm, pie.)
April 17th, 2008 at 9:07 pm
protected wireless internet networks sometimes use the word “guest” as a password/passcode. maybe that will work?
if it does work, please send me a bunch of lemons. i love lemons!
April 18th, 2008 at 10:41 am
My ex used to have the same trouble with his dusty smoke detectors, and they would go off every time he’d light his bong. Then his landlord/FATHER would come downstairs, and I’d be all, “Dude, I’m over here minding my own. He’s your THC-soaked offspring, you deal with him!”
April 18th, 2008 at 3:41 pm
Try putting a shower cap over the smoke alarm. But only while you are in the shower. Don’t forget to uncover the smoke alarm when you are done!
April 18th, 2008 at 9:37 pm
Okay, this makes so much more sense when I don’t read the posts backwards! Now that my brain is unconfused: I feel your apartment love/pain! I moved into my first live all alone tiny haven last December and adored it (still do!), but over time I discovered that I will only ever have enough hot water for a 15-minute shower. Plus, for a month the heater had to be clicked over manually to turn on every time. Mornings were unpleasant. It still does that on occasion when I haven’t appeased the thermostat gods with enough praise. But, on the bright side, you will learn to love the flaws like they are just the quirks of your best friend – which does not mean you won’t curse them creatively and at length. The two are not mutually exclusive. Except, of course, that you cannot lament your best friend’s flaw in front of her. Or, at least, you probably shouldn’t.
I am sorry about your internet-less existence. Several of my neighbors are unsecured, but they have the habit of actually turning their internet off somehow. (Until here, I didn’t know you could do that.) So inconsiderate. You might try praying to the internet gods for a magic unsecured line. Hey, it works on thermostats.
April 23rd, 2008 at 2:44 pm
Ah, blast and damnation for the secured networks surrounding you! The apartment sounds charming. My very first house was one of those. I fell in love the moment I stepped in the door. It took a little longer for the rose-colored glasses to come off, and I stayed there for 6 years before deciding I needed a place with a bathroom on the main floor. I still look on that place as the best one ever.
April 23rd, 2008 at 9:11 pm
Well good then, I don’t feel left out anymore. Don’t go thinking that you have to have an old place to have testy smoke alarms. Our house was built in ’95 and all the smoke alarms are tied together so that when one is triggered, they all go off. Our first week in the house, I was taking a nice long hot shower when the alarms went off IN UNISON. I ran around the house soaking wet trying to smell for smoke while the cats all panicked. I threw on some clothes and ran outside thinking the fire was in the crawlspace (attic) and that smoke might be coming out from under the eaves. No such luck. Finally had to take the batteries out of the one alarm in our room because it kept going off. About two years later, our new neighbor across the street knocked on our door with a soaking wet child asking “Have you ever had problems with your smoke alarms while bathing?” Oh boy was that familiar.