vendredi 26 août 2005

Move-in mania.

To make up for the dust mite-filled loveliness of Wednesday's post, I'm going to include Lots! Of! Pictures! of my new apartment, and the barren messy state it is currently in.

But before I could pick up the keys to my apartment, I had to go through "orientation" which consisted of a decently cute guy around my age in an ugly suit from the management company sitting down with me and going through the welcome packet. It was stupid, but I guess they want to make sure they cover their bases, especially given the fact that according to both the receptionist and my leasing agent, I was the first one in a LONG TIME to fill out the rental application correctly. It's not rocket science; you just fill in the blanks. Anyway, this guy made sure to point out the list of elementary and high schools in the area as well as the flier advertising the "Mommy and me" yoga class. To the latter, I responded that I would only need that "if something went terribly wrong in the next year". Just throw those fliers out; I obviously do not need them. When my leasing agent gave me the notice that there could possibly be lead in the paint, he said that it wouldn't harm me unless I ate the paint. Hm. If I'm eating paint, there are bigger problems. Seriously, who the hell lives here that they have to give me these kinds of warnings?

So Wednesday and Thursday, all I have been doing is moving! Moving! WHO let me own so much stuff?

That is the foyer. The only reason I am pointing it out is because I have a linen closet and a coat closet! While this not be very exciting to you, IT IS TO ME!! My apartment in Providence used to be doctors' offices and there was no storage space to speak of, and then this past year in Cambridge my roommate had all his ugly mausoleum crap filling the closets so I had no room. But these closets are ALL MINE.

And CHECK OUT THE STORAGE IN THE KITCHEN! Do you SEE the plentiful cupboards? There are two more above the counter that're being hidden by the larger cupboard in the foreground in the picture on the left. And the counter space? Seriously. I might die from being overly excited by the amount of space I have all to myself. It is lovely. And there is the window where I plan to grow my herb garden. But the storage! And all the appliances are new! I finally have a gas range again! Happiness is.

I happen to have A Lot Of Stuff. I have barely begun to touch the surface. It is sad. But doesn't the picture on the left look as though it belongs in Martha Stewart Living? The picture on the right is to remind me to buy booze as soon as I'm settled, like I need any reminders.

This is the barren living room. Do not worry, it will not be barren for long.

This is the view if you look straight out the window. (And now everyone in LA knows where I live.) Hello neighbours. I am going to have to invest in curtains. And binoculars.

But HEY! If you look to the right, there's a lovely view of the Hollywood Hills. Say hi to the smog! Pollution keeps the allergies away! Yay!

This is what I went and built because strangely, the medicine cabinet doesn't have shelves and I don't have any under-sink storage. Look at how pretty it is. You must praise it, for it is perhaps the first thing I have "built" since I took a woodwork class when I was 9. Tools (both literally and figuratively, haha!) and I are not friends. All the shelving in my other apartments was put together by either my father or by friends because I am laaaazy. But I decided to attempt this on my own, and look! They said that two people were needed to build it (due to some balancing issues) but haha! I laugh in the face of instructions! Who needs a hammer when you have the butt end of a screwdriver? The only thing I didn't do was "mount" (read: nail) it to the wall. It is not going to fall over, unless unless someone's having sex against it and it falls, but really. Why against the toilet? There are more comfortable places. And who is going to have sex in my apartment but me? I am therefore not worried about it accidentally falling and bonking me on the head.

There was also momentary panic as the last step was to screw in the knobs, but the doors were shut and I couldn't open them (magnetic forces are keeping it all together, you see). But I stuck some leftover screws into the screw holes to get the right leverage in order to force the doors open. Because I'm smartz like that, you see.

Across from my bedroom (which has nothing in it, hence why there are no pictures) is a walk-in closet. Such a beautiful phrase: walk-in closet. Ahhh. More room for shoes and purses! There is also a built-in dresser, which while slightly ugly, means that I have one less piece of furniture to buy. Of course, I have started filling it up already. That is all the makeup I don't wear. Yet, I just go out and buy more. It's because I like new shiny things. (Speaking of new shiny things. Look! So sparkly! Also so ridiculous! But still! It is totally the ring I'd want someday, except it's like 5 gazillion times bigger [and it doesn't have a terribly good colour rating]! You could take someone out with it, or at least cause retinal damage when sunlight hits it.)

KABLOOIE! It's like all the boxes exploded of their own volition, spilling their newspaper and packing peanut guts everywhere. You're not even getting a view of the mess behind me, wherein I have more boxes and bags full of newspaper and books. There is a method to this madness. One corner has books. One corner has breakables. The rest is filled in by mess and trash. And it's only going to get worse until it gets better.

Have I mentioned how much I love FedEx? Look at how carefully they packaged my plates and bowls for me! NOTHING will ever break those puppies, especially as they came inside this enormous box stuffed full of styrofoam peanuts. I now have more bubble wrap and styroforam peanuts than I know what to do with, and it's all FedEx's fault. But how can you not love people who fill your BOWLS with the peanuts to prevent breakage. And did I mention that they didn't charge me extra for this? They only charged me for shipping! I don't know how I got away with it, but I'm not complaining. More money to buy sparkly things!

And it was while I was carrying these into the elevator that I got my first sketchy approach by someone in my apartment complex. This guy who was like blinged out and ew! offered to help, while telling me I was all beautiful and stuff. He obviously needed his eyesight checked because I was gross and sweaty from hauling boxes around. And he wouldn't stop talking, and anyone who knows me knows that I generally dislike talking to strangers. Blech. Besides, I am safe! I am not going to let strangers know (exactly) where I live! To make matters worse, he then asked if I had a boyfriend, to which I responded yes because maybe it would make him stop talking to me. No such luck. He told me my boyfriend was lucky. Yes, my imaginary boyfriend is lucky to have me and I to have him. Then! He asked if I had a sister, perhaps a twin sister, and if I wanted his number "just in case". Just in case what? Just in case I lost all my sense and sensibility? Nothankyou.

I have been so engrossed in unpacking that I even forgot to eat Wednesday and Thursday! And let me tell you, that NEVER happens. On Wednesday, the next thing I knew, it was 3pm and I HAD NOT HAD A BITE TO EAT ALL DAY. This is the kind of email you get from me when I realise I should have been fed like 6 hours ago, and when I'm writing on my palm pilot.
so much shit. so much room here too!! but more shit than i know what to do with. am connecting w/ neighbour's wireless hee. need food havent eaten yet argh. dresser built into walkin closet yay! okay. musteat
While I could've walked across the street to the Farmer's Market for, oh, beignets and tacos with shredded beef, YUM, nonono. I need to not exhaust the Farmer's Market for food before I even move in, not to mention it would have entailed walking by the stores of credit card death. Besides, one thing LA is great at is HOT DOGS.

Mmm. Hot dogs. Some of the best hot dogs in the area. So this was Wednesday's breakfast/lunch/midafternoon snack:

So I drove over to the land of porn and prostitutes (otherwise known as Hollywood Boulevard) to get hot dogs. Okay, I admit, I got two hot dogs because I was STARVING. (I did not eat the buns, however, so that makes it better? Right?) Good hot dogs "snap" as you bite into them, allowing their juices to dribble into your mouth. (That could sound dirty in the right - or wrong, I guess - context). These were good hot dogs, served with amazing french fries (both regular size and then there are these thin crosswise crunchy slices) that are served with their aioli dipping sauce. With a nice tall cool cup of lemonade, it was heaven.

Thursday I apparently was even more involved in the unpacking, for I only had a nectarine all day and when I drove to Ikea at 4, realised I hadn't had anything and meant to get something there, but Ikea. Aaaahh. Other people make much better fun of than I do, but I remembered why I hadn't been to Ikea in three years after yesterday. It's total overstimulation what with the umlauts all over the place. So I had to leave before I ended up buying lots of useless stuff because it had funny names.

Now, all I need is actual furniture. Someday.