Monday, April 13, 2009

Confused By Affection Or Infatuation

We are twitterpated. Completely. We're freshman and our new apartment is the star varsity football player. Honestly? I don't know if I've ever been this in love with something lacking a nervous system in my entire life.

Since last Wednesday we've been completely consumed by our attempt to get the place put together so we can start living in it. I mean, we're sleeping there, but everything is in boxes so our lives are in total limbo. Speaking of limbo, I'm working on an essay which explains how moving is the modern day equivalent of the seven layers of hell. But I'll save that for later.

The new place is so so so cute, you guys. I know you're probably sick of hearing about it already, but I just can't stop gushing. I didn't know one could love an apartment this much. I think I might have to name her. The apartment is a her now. I just decided. Her name is Rachel. I love her. It's a non-sexual love, a platonic love, if you will, but not at all lacking in passion. Don't get me wrong, Rachel is not perfect. Not by any means. When she was turned over she was completely repainted, which is impressive for New York, but the tiled walls in the bathroom were painted over and guess what? You can't paint tile. Six steamy showers later, the paint is peeling off and revealing the filthy, grimy tile underneath. Which means we'll have to scrape all the paint off and clean the tile really well. I don't even want to begin to think about what a hideous project that will be, especially after watching Michael rip up the bathroom linoleum and prep it for new flooring. Also, there are no cabinets in the bathroom, not even under the sink, so there is no place in the bathroom to keep extra towels or the seven boxes of beauty products I packed up. Why do I have enough beauty products to fill seven moving boxes? I don't know. I think they came with the extra X chromosome. But you know what the bathroom does have? A bathroom sink. And I love it. I kissed it hello this morning, as a matter of fact. Oh! I know! Let's name the bathroom sink! How about ... ... ... Delilah? Delilah the sink. Perfect.

Rachel has other little flaws, but they aren't her fault, really. It isn't her fault that the french doors were hung incorrectly and so must be taken down and rehung so they will actually shut. And it isn't her fault that all her other doors have been painted and repainted and the paint has cracked and been repainted over again. She's an older girl and those painted over cracks? They add character. And I'm just really thankful that my husband is so handy so that he can fix all the non-working electrical outlets, and even install an electrical outlet in the bathroom that doesn't have an outlet. But you know what that bathroom does have, right? A SINK, YOU GUYS. A SINK.

Rachel is so pretty it hurts me. A good kind of hurt. She is spacious and airy and sunny, Oh! the sun and it's beautiful sunshiny-ness. So much beautiful sunshine. We don't even need to turn on any lights until the sun sets. It's extraordinary. The tenement required lamplight by 1:00 p.m. every day. But not Rachel! And the hardwood floors. They take my breath away. You think silk is luxurious? Or satin? Or velvet? Try my hardwood floors. You don't know luxury until you take off your shoes and walk on my floors. I kissed them good morning today, too. Mike was all, "You're kissing the ground I walk on?" And I was like, "Can't talk now. Making out with hardwood floors."

And also this morning? This morning when I took the dogs out for their walk, SOMEONE WAS MOPPING THE HALLWAY. Now, in my prior rants regarding the tenement, I left out the part where whenever the hallways and stairwells needed sweeping, our "super" would down a bottle of Jack Daniels and paint the stairs with a green oil based paint that then took three days to dry. He'd tape up signs that warned us to "walk on the left" but is that the left if you're going down? Or the left if you're coming up? And inevitably you'd end up with sticky green soles, and then you'd track green paint into the bitchen, and both dogs still have green paws. Plus, cleaning up filth and painting over filth are just not the same thing.

I feel like we've died and gone to heaven. Except for the part where if we eat one more meal from a fast food joint we're going to die. Because there should only be fresh cooked meals in heaven, I'm just saying.

6 comments:

'Cita said...

Yeee Haw!!!!! Can't wait to see it!

Kim said...

I am totally full of happiness for you.

Kate said...

I am so excited for you and your awesome new place! I name stuff all the time. Rachel and Delilah are wonderful names for an apartment and a bathroom sink, in my opinion.

Awaiting a sardonic post about the seven layers of moving hell impatiently. =)

George said...

So one of the reasons I left Los Angeles and moved to New York was because i realized that i spent 24 or so years waking up daily to absolutely amazing weather and not acknowledging it or even caring. 2 years of new york shitfest weather later I moved back to Los Angeles. In the 2 years I have been back, there has not been a day of good weather that i have not acknowledged and taken a moment to appreciate. I guess the point is, sometimes you have to live in shit for a while to appreciate how amazing normal can truly be!!
congrats on your new pad may the bitchen rest in piece

Dream Catcher said...

I'm so happy for you!!! I've decided to be flattered to share my moniker with your new place. We're both kinda fantastic after all ;)

Frosty said...

Thank you everyone!

RACHEL! Oh my gosh. That is funny. I hadn't even realized. You know what? I picked that name because I think it is beautiful and I wanted to name my future daughter that, but because my husband's best friend for years was a woman named Rachel, he said NO WAY. (Long story.) So I named my apartment Rachel. I certainly meant it to flatter Rachel's everywhere.