Tuesday, August 23, 2005


One more piece is in place: we have an apartment in New York. Sure it was previously inhabited by heroin addicts (according to our colorful, verbose super, Eddie) and it’s pretty much infested with roaches, but it’s a place to call home.

Did I mention there were roaches? Okay, this is New York. Roaches are a fact of life. Still, why is this not a big deal to anyone else? People keep trying to get me to accept it. Similar to my move to Lubbock, when people kept telling me "Yes, it smells like cow shit, but you’ll get used to it." My response was why in the world would I want to get used to the smell of feces? If my sensory input is so kaput that I can’t discern the vile odors of manure then I’ve got bigger problems than Bessie down the road.

Alright, I grew up in suburbia. Roaches were around but they weren’t out of control in my house. So why do I have this inherent horror whenever I see one? I remember in seventh grade when I was watching TV late one night. I see a roach crawling under the TV stand. I don’t freak, but I am disturbed enough to grab a kleenex, kill it and flush it down the toilet. Turn off the TV, go to bed, forget it ever happened.

Next sighting, weeks later, another late night. I walk into the kitchen, flick the light on and there it is. A huge cockroach on the counter. It’s antennas wheeling around. I grab a sandal and inch close. Then the thing launches across the counter to the edge and dive bombs into the open trash container. That’s when I lose my shit. They look so vile, move so fast, and that scuttling sound when they move. Ugh, I’m squirming right now.

But what can you do in the city? Set a few roach traps, fog the shit out the place and pray those ultra-sound generators actually work.

The apartment has come leaps and bounds from my first impression. We painted the walls some pretty decent colors. Nevermind that we almost killed ourselves by standing on a janky stool. Our stuff is out of storage. (So long U-haul, and screw you!) We had Christian and paid some awesome Asian guys to help us move our boxes up the narrow, windy stairs. Think of doing squats on a stairmaster for three hours straight. The neighborhood is awesome. East Village is ripe for exploration.

Anyone know a good place for Dim Sum?

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