This weekend, I’m moving out of my apartment. For those who don’t know, I’ve been living for the past two years in a fabulous 5-bedroom apartment on 19th and 5th. It’s a little bit of a dream apartment by New York standards: central heat and AC, washer&dryer in the apartment, dishwasher, and an elevator that opens up into the apartment (baller status!). Not once in the time that I’ve lived here do I get sick of the look on people’s faces when they get off the elevator for the first time. But this apartment has its share of faults, and even with the rent reduction its still too expensive now that I’m trying to be “financially independent”, and more than anything else, I’m ready to move on. This apartment has been a BLAST, but I’m not in college anymore, and living in the clubhouse just isn’t conducive to my life anymore, except for having parties (which, unfortunately, no longer makes up 80% of my life).
One of my roommates, Caitlin, and I are moving on up—kinda. We’re downsizing to a 2-bedroom apartment on 27th and Park that’s a—gasp!—walkup, and laundry is IN THE BASEMENT. But, in exchange we’re getting a working fireplace, an actual coat closet, and bedrooms that actually get some sunlight. But that’s the thing about finding an apartment in New York - the perfect apartment doesn’t exist. At least not in my price range. You give up some things and gain some others. But hey, we still have a dishwasher.
More than anything else, what’s throwing me off about this huge change, and it IS huge, is not just the physical act of moving. Though it is a real bitch, but not as much of a bitch as was my move INTO this apartment, and that is a story for another time. Here’s the thing: I’ve been living in New York for five years, briefly interrupted by stint in London, and two of them were spent in this apartment. Before that, I’ve lived in 4 different places, usually for not more than 6-8 months. I was living like a nomad, with disposable furnishings, and never really investing much in my home because I would be out of there soon. I didn’t even buy a bed until I moved in here. Being able to actually settle down, breathe easily for a while, and actually call a place home for a long time was so, so nice. This apartment has become such a part of me that it’s been hard pulling myself away. I love my new place, but it doesn’t feel like me—yet.
Given that all I will be doing for the next few days is work and pack, expect my posts on here to be principally chronicling the trials and tribulations of the move. Also, we’re having one last party on Friday before the movers come the following morning - text or email me for details, the more the merrier and I would love to see any and all of you, especially if you’ve never seen my place before. :)
i live in new york city. and i have the best friends in the world. the end.
