Wednesday, June 25, 2008
I'm moving out of my apartment on Sunday and into the boy and my condo. This is all very exciting of course and I'm really happy that boy and I are finally starting our life together, but I can't help being at least a little sad to be leaving my place. I moved in during a particularly nasty period in my life (the near culmination of which was me projectile vomiting all over my grandmother's church during her funeral, having been poisoned by a Starbucks muffin. I mean, REALLY.) The apartment was the first good thing that had happened to me for quite a while and it is, without a doubt, the most perfect "single girl apartment" in Los Angeles. It was built in 1929 and has many of its original details still intact. Hardwood floors with medallions left by the craftsperson who laid them. All original 20s tile in the bathroom and kitchen. An antique stove with a bit of a personality disorder and a distinct preference for being operated by ME and not others. Coved ceilings, cut glass knobs and a CEDAR LINED hall closet. When I say "they just don't make them like that anymore" its true . . . they don't.
There are of course things I'm happy to be leaving behind too. A neighbor's dog who wants very badly to eat me. A trash guy who enjoys doing pickups before dawn on Fridays. And a citified mockingbird who spends ALL NIGHT singing car alarm noises (I couldn't make that one up!).
Its a new adventure, I know, and I AM excited, but thats not gonna stop me from doing a post looking back at "The Best Apartment In The World" (tm).