It’s way too early, just 8am, and I’m following a tiny, arthritic woman around a horrible little apartment. There are light switches but no lights. The radiator is falling apart in the bedroom and the windowless bathroom has a fan that doesn’t work, leaving a thick layer of green damp on the ceiling.
"There was a leak up there, but the good news is it’s fixed so they just gotta paint over it." She is a real estate agent, who seems down on her luck, and I’m looking for a new apartment. The backstory is long and boring, so I’ll spare you, but please take comfort in knowing that everyone close to me has heard it in both tedious detail and real time.
Nothing dramatic happened. I promise I didn’t set fire to my current building or get evicted for holding raves or dog-fighting rings – the landlord had no clue I was doing all of that fun stuff. I just need to move out and my deadline, poetically enough, is New Year’s Eve.
"You have to use your imagination." I use my imagination and picture finding seven million dollars under the tatty linoleum and buying her a new car then moving to a giant brownstone next to the park. I use my imagination and envision some kind of commune where I live exclusively with puppies and toddlers (and their handlers). I use my imagination and drift into a version of New York city that has affordable housing with lights in every room.
By the time I snap out of it, I hear the little old witch saying ‘Remember, you can’t expect so much.’ ‘Which is it?’ I ask her, genuinely perplexed. "I should use my imagination or I should stop expecting so much?’ She does a nervous laugh, and the hunt continues.
My fave this week:
I am going to try DŌ this raw cookie dough spot, there were hour long waits when they opened back in January but now that they’re being sued for allegedly causing food poisoning it seems less busy. Yum!