Room with a View

So The Little Nolita Lady is searching for a new apartment. One of the options for her and her new roommate is a two bedroom in the financial district. Unfortunately, one of the bedrooms doesn't have windows, which is a cause of concern for the new roommate (which also, The Boy is urging me to point out, is illegal. All bedrooms must have windows. Anyway . . .) I told The Little Nolita Lady her roommate shouldn't worry about it. We've spent hundreds of dollars to completely block out our bedroom windows, effectively creating a cave. 

In fact, in New York, sometimes a bedroom view isn't that great of a thing. Just ask the West Side Beauty. Her new neighbors have taken to spending time on their roof, with a perfect view of her bedroom. She can see and hear what they are doing and . . . well, you see the problem. 

So my message to The Little Nolita Lady's future roommate - take the apartment and rejoice that you don't have to buy shades.

Houston, we have STORAGE!

After two years in the big city, we have reached a turning point - extra storage. I know to people in other parts of the country, storage is no big deal. You have extra closets, or a garage or an attic. For New Yorkers, closet space is limited and precious. Many apartments only have one closet for the whole space. That means it must store clothes, shoes, coats, suitcases and everything else. We built some extra closets into our space, and when our linen closet was finished, I cheered!  But we still had a bunch of junk we were storing in our fire escape on the sly. So when we found out this week that a storage bin in the basement had opened up, it was huge, and very welcome, news. 

Ratta-ewwie

Two vermin-related stories for you kids today. First, a memorable first date for one of The Boy's co-workers. He was on a date in Madison Square Park, home of the venerable Shake Shack. The couple was sitting on a park bench, below a tree in the middle of conversation, when a rat fell THWACK! right in the girls' lap! Despite this auspicious beginning, the two continue to date.

The second story begins below ground in the subway tunnels, home to hundreds (maybe thousands?) of rats. A friend of mine was waiting for the F train at the 23rd street station. She noticed that a rat had boldly moved from the subway tracks, where they usually scurry around disconnected from the human passers by, onto the platform, realm of the two legged. My friend and the other people in the station steered clear of the interloper. They began to talk among themselves, pointing and laughing skittishly.  A man told my friend that rats on the platform were common at this station, and that they had an even more startling habit. He said he had seen rats on the platform crawl into the subway car when it arrived and ride away. And in fact, when the subway pulled up, my friend watched it twitch it's nose as it stepped into the last car. Perhaps it was meeting someone at the next stop.

Everything Sucks, Let's Get Drunk

Ventured out to Ulysses in the Financial District tonight. Thought it might be slow because of all the financial turmoil going on, but it was hoppin'. Perhaps everyone figured they might at least enjoy the coolness of the late summer evening and a foamy brew, even as their investments and careers tanked. Economic crises blow.

Summer Sounds

The crickets and cicadas making their evening music remind me of home. It is a uniquely southern summer sound to me, signaling the end of warm weather and the onset of Fall. Funny that it triggers that feeling in me since a Texas Fall is not that dissimilar from a Texas Summer. Nevertheless, when I hear that insectual orchestra, I long for home.

Go Bag

Well, well, well. Vindication is definitely sweet.  For months I've been talking up the idea of a "Go" Bag. You know, this would be a bag, at the ready, that contained a change of clothes, copies of important papers, extra glasses, non-perishable food, water and money that could be grabbed at a moment's notice should there be some kind of emergency.  My friends teased me endlessly about being Chicken Little, but it looks like Hurricane Ike has proved me right! The destruction started to hit before so many folks were prepared to leave. A "Go" bag might have proved useful. 

Indeed I have spent endless hours discussing possible escape routes and safe house possibilities with The Boy. I've wondered whether we should take our car or public transportation, or whether either would be futile. In which case I determined we should be ready to pack up our bikes and ride up to Yonkers. But that got me thinking about Meow - I couldn't leave her behind! I went so far as to decide maybe I should get one of those fancy cargo stroller things that you attach to the back of your bike, so I could stick the Meow in it. Finally I decided that the Meow might have to tough it out in a backpak. 

Chances are I won't ever have to use my "Go" bag, but it's nice to feel prepared. Just wish those folks at home didn't have to learn that lesson so hard.