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...and so it ends... - KRAD's Inaccurate Guide to Life
ramblings from a mad fedora'd writer
...and so it ends...
I have lived at ten different addresses in my life. The first two I don't really remember: an apartment near Fordham University (where my parents met) in the Bronx and an apartment in Fairview, New Jersey where we lived for a year. There's the two-bedroom apartment in the Bronx where I lived from ages three to seven, where I was good friends with the other kids on the block, then the lower part of the two-family house in the Bronx that my mother grew up in that my parents owned from 1976 until 1991. I lived there from '76 until I graduated college in 1990 (with a detour in the summer of 1989 when me and my friend John Drew lived together for a summer in the lower part of a house in Queens that my second mother Helga inherited from her father and was prepping to sell), then moved to an apartment down the street, where I lived for a year and a half until my parents sold the old house and moved into the new one that they remain in today. I moved back into the old house until they sold it, first alone, then with Marina, and that was where we lived when we got married in May 1992. By the end of '92, the house was sold, and we moved to the Upper West Side. We rented an apartment there for two years, then decided to buy a co-op that we would spend the rest of our lives in. *wry grin* When Marina and I split up in 2000, I rented a studio apartment in Weehawken, New Jersey (in the basement of the house owned by my friends Glenn & Brandy Hauman), then Terri and I started living together in an apartment back in the Bronx in 2001.

I have lived at that address -- seven years on the third floor, eight on the second floor (both places have the same floorplan, but the second-floor apartment has two patios, which is why Terri and I grabbed it when it became available in 2008) -- for fifteen years now. Technically, I lived at the house I grew up in for longer, but not consecutively -- it was fourteen years straight, then another 1.5 years.

This morning I got the last of our stuff out of the place and returned the keys to our landlords.

There are a lot of memories tied up in the two apartments I lived in in that building. Starting my relationship with Terri. Having my first two cats, Marcus and Mittens, who came with Terri, as it were. Terri's and my relationship crumbling and falling apart. Wrenn and Dale moving in. Dozens and dozens of house guests over the years, as I have always thought it important to be as welcoming to guests as possible, and Wrenn and Dale in particular also have the hospitality gene, as it were. In particular, I remember October of 2013 where we had four different house guests over the course of the month: Christopher L. Bennett, Meg Nuge, Elizabeth Donald, and Megan H. Rothrock.

Every piece of fiction I wrote that came out between 2002 and 2017 was written at least partly in that building. I started martial arts while living there, I turned 40 while living there, I got a grandmaster award and was roasted while living there, I got my first Guest of Honor invitations while living there, I joined the Boogie Knights while living there.

So many critters called that building their final home: Mittens, who died of cancer in 2004. Marcus, who finally succumbed at the ripe old age of 21. All the animals that Wrenn and Dale moved up with died in that building -- Scooter, the best dog ever, as well as the cats Newcastle, Rhiannon, Jezebelle, and Sterling.

Aoki and Kaylee had their first homes there. Louie had his first with us.

Some wonderful parties were held in those two apartments, starting with the Hallowe'en party Terri and I threw, all the way to the annual Twelfth Night parties that Wrenn, Dale, and I threw (the latest of which was postponed to March by the one and only blizzard we had last winter).

Having said all that, I'm actually glad to be out of there. The apartment had some serious issues, from carpeting in the living room and Dale's room that could charitably be called "worn" (and not-so-charitably called "hideous"). The stove was awful, the fridge was falling apart, the closet doors were a mess, and the patio doors didn't latch right. The front door was always a pain to navigate, and our most recent upstairs neighbors are, frankly, creeps. (Our downstairs neighbors are wonderful, though, and we will seriously miss them.)

More to the point, though we three made it our home, it was always really my old place that Wrenn and Dale moved into.

This new apartment is part of a three-story house. The first floor is taken up entirely by one apartment, then the second floor is split into two: about 2/3 another full apartment, and the other third is part of our place, which also has a staircase to the third floor, which has lower ceilings (it's at roof level). Our portion of the second floor has the front door, the kitchen, and the living room/dining room (which is very large). Then you go upstairs for the three bedrooms, the bathroom, and the massive walk-in closet (which we've already dubbed "the TARDIS" because it is bigger on the inside). The bedrooms are also quite large -- one is Wrenn's and my bedroom, one is Wrenn's and my shared office, and the other is Dale's. Dale's room is actually the biggest of the three, but since he's been stuck in a tiny bedroom for six years, he's welcome to it. :) And the other two are plenty large.

The top of the staircase to the third floor has a huge windowsill. When we first looked at the place in late July, the first thing we said was, "The cats would love this windowsill." Reality has proven us 100% correct, as the most likely place to find Kaylee or Louie is on that windowsill. (We even put a water bowl there.)

The place is completely filled to the brim with boxes and bags. We've been so focused on getting shit out of the old place that unpacking in the new place hasn't really been a priority. That will change this week. This weekend, though, I'm done. I've spent the last three weeks on a seemingly endless treadmill of carrying things downstairs and carrying things upstairs, and I'm sore in places that haven't hurt since I was a low-level color belt doing sparring. Thank fuck I'm a black belt, though -- my training has given me the strength and stamina to do this. We'd have been royally borked if I wasn't in such good shape.

But most importantly, despite all this -- the place already feels like home, even more than the old place did. And I am content.

*collapses on new couch*

Current Mood: exhausted exhausted
Current Music: the Yankees-Orioles game on YES

5 comments or Please comment
woofiegrrl From: woofiegrrl Date: September 3rd, 2016 11:34 pm (UTC) (Link)
[see icon]
ceciliatan From: ceciliatan Date: September 3rd, 2016 11:55 pm (UTC) (Link)
w00t! Moving can be hell on the psyche, even when you're ecstatic about doing it, but here's to a great new place!
archersangel From: archersangel Date: September 4th, 2016 12:12 am (UTC) (Link)
that place sounds great. I hope you all have many happy hears there.
quarkwiz From: quarkwiz Date: September 4th, 2016 06:40 pm (UTC) (Link)
Enjoy your well-deserved rest! :-) I too have dealt with moves involving a whole lotta stairs, so I really get it.
alorarose From: alorarose Date: September 6th, 2016 08:00 pm (UTC) (Link)
:) I'm glad it's feeling like home.
5 comments or Please comment