Since it’s occupying all my time, I figured I’d share the whole-apartment-buying thing. It helps to know whence I came to appreciate why buying the apartment I’m buying is so nifty.This is my present apartment on 57th and 10th in Manhattan.
This is the view of my apartment from the hallway.
You see those windows in the first picture? This is me standing at the windows photographing the front door.
This is a close-up of the kitchen you see in the second picture. From left on the bottom: refrigerator (no freezer), teeny-tiny sink, and teeny tiny stove with oven that I have never opened.
This is the view from my bed. There is my beloved glass teat, the television. And also there is my formidable collection of art, graphic design and beading magazines.
This is my giant closet. Seriously, it’s like the closet from “The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe”. It goes back four feet. All my earthly possessions live in it. Sometimes it is tidy and clean. More often it is not. This is a picture of “not”.
This is my bathroom. My bathroom rocks. It is nicely sized and has all new fixtures and tiles. There’s an industrial toilet (no tank) so when you flush it, it sucks the first two layers of skin off your ass. The shower gets nice and hot quickly and nothing leaks.
Now, I’m sure you’re asking yourself, “That’s nice, but what about the other rooms?” There are no other rooms. My apartment, in its entirety, is 11 by 19 feet. I cannot have a full-sized bed because then I could not walk around. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love this apartment. This apartment has served my needs admirably for two years. It is close to my job. It is close to Lincoln Center and the theater district. It is close to a delightful myriad of restaurants. It is close to the subway. There is a concierge. There is laundry in the basement and I don’t have to drag my dirty clothes around the streets of Manhattan to a laundromat. The apartment doesn’t take more than three hours to clean top-to-bottom. But it is expensive ($1400 a month) and I simply cannot afford Manhattan anymore. So I am buying an apartment in White Plains, NY. Here is a floorplan of my new apartment:
If you look carefully, you will see that my present apartment can fit in its entirety into my master bedroom. This apartment, aside from being mighty big (1200 sq. ft.), comes with a dishwasher, two ovens, a concierge, a garage parking spot (no chiselling the icy crust of winter off my windshield and cursing) and windows. Lots and lots of windows. See that edge-of-wall at the bottom of the floorplan, underneath the names of the rooms and their sizes? That’s all windows. In my present apartment, I look out on an airshaft. It’s always dim, even in the middle of summer. Now I’m going to have my favorite kind of houseplants, cactii and succulents (need lots of sun, not much water). There are setbacks, of course. Not being in Manhattan is a big one. I will miss that greatly. But White Plains is a fairly big city, and I am eight-tenths of a mile from the center of town which contains: A 15-movie multiplex, Barnes & Noble, Target, P.F. Chang’s, Hot Topic and Torrid (long live mall goth!), a creperie, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Store, Beadworks, Sephora, Pottery Barn, Crate and Barrel, Filene’s Basement and a whole lot more. I can walk to those. And I can walk to the train station (also eight-tenths of a mile). If I drive, hell, I can do anything. There’s a huge Asian community living near me so all around me are cool Asian grocery stores (Japanese? Okay. Korean? You got it. Chinese? Not a problem. AWESOME.) And there’s an art-supply store and a 24-hour CVS a little over a mile from my apartment (also AWESOME – Maalox at two in the morning is important, trust me). And a million billion other things all around me. I just have to get used to it not being smooshed right up against me, Manhattan-style. And if I hate and I can’t stand it (“It’s so peaceful and soothing out here! Ahhhhh! And what’s with all these goddamned trees?!??”), I can always sell it and move back into a prison cell in Manhattan.