I’ve been trying to revamp my new apartment room by room instead of halfway doing every room. I started with the bathroom, since it was small and seemingly a one-evening project. First to go was the toilet seat – the existing seat was one of those gross padded ones from nursing homes. This one was particularly yellowed, and I didn’t like thinking of all the stuff that was most likely living in there.
After figuring out how toilet seats go on (plastic bolts and washers hidden under those latches? Never would have guessed), I get to work. Halfway through (read: unscrewed one screw) I was feeling great. Legitimately was thinking about how I could write a great blog post about how a few easy DIYs can improve any rental situation.
Then I got to the second bolt.
It must have been installed by the Hulk, because it wouldn’t budge. I was on the floor for 15 minutes with different combinations of pliers and wrenches to no avail. I called my dad for advice. He has done this a few times, and instructed me on how to drill through the bolt – its plastic – with a drill.
The drill bit snaps almost instantaneously.
Second bit starts to work, so I spend another 20 minutes cautiously drilling through plastic and then jabbing at it with a screwdriver to poke it out. Finally, success!
The seat I bought is about 3 inches too big.
My super old apartment has miniature everything, so the seat was way too big. Home Depot doesn’t carry the right size, nor does any other store, even online. I finally had to order an RV seat from online; I will be seat-less for 3-8 business days. If that doesn’t work, I may have to somehow DIY build a seat…
As I’m about to embark on apartment number three in Manhattan, I’m reflecting on my other two moves and how they contrast with this one.
First moving here from Delaware was a struggle in every sense of the word. Amanda and I were taking trains up on the weekend to look at places with various brokers, pounding the pavement all over town. I remember meeting a friend for coffee one Saturday afternoon and bawling in the middle of Dunkin Donuts. Ten minutes later she came with me to see the apartment I ended up moving into. Tears were a common theme, though, as I bawled once signing the lease for the apartment with no job. One week later I was working at Qdoba to pay bills, and a week after that I quit because I’d been offered the job I’m still at today.
Amanda moved to LA with three months left in our lease, so I found a random girl on Craigslist that I’ve lived with for the past two years.
When I called to renew that lease, I was told it wasn’t getting renewed. That day I spent 15 minutes crying at work. In three weeks I packed, found a place, and (easily) convinced Elise to move with me. The weekend I moved was my first kiss with Dave – we just planned a trip to Portland for our two year anniversary.
This move has been the smoothest to date, but that doesn’t mean it’s been without its own issues. I’ve had to find a subletter, pay my first brokers fee, sell the majority of my furniture on Craigalist, call Time Warner Cable 8 times with no success, and so on. With just five days to go (with a trip to Atlantic City jammed in there somehow), I feel ready to go. My boxes are packed, I’ve picked out paint samples, and I’ve read enough design blogs to have an honorary degree in interior design.
Looking back, each move has marked a significant change in my life. What will happen this time? I’m ecstatic to have an apartment to myself and see how my life will be shaped by this transition.
Success! I can’t tell you how excited I am to move into my own place and walk around in my underwear – erm, I mean, redecorate. Well I guess the cats out of the bag re: my real reason for living alone.
More updates soon!
Think parades on 5th Ave are fun? Well they aren’t. They inconvenience everyone trying to do something besides watch the parade. I got on the M57 to go to the park, and it turned south at 3rd because all of 57th was closed. So I get off and walk just to find a parade going on. Pedestrians can only cross the street in intervals when cops pause the parade. Here’s the line for people trying to cross:
Has St Patricks Day always been this obnoxious or is it just me? This is the first time in maybe five or six years that I didn’t celebrate the holiday, and now I’ve turned into a grinch. The streets are overrun with Pauly D’s in Celtics tees and trashy Long Island girls in leggings and off-the-shoulder “kiss me I’m Irish” shirts (they should really say “kiss me I’m easy”). I’m trying to get downtown to watch some March Madness and the party is spilling into the streets causing horrible traffic. Some punks just ran up to the stopped bus and pounded on the windows for fun. Seriously? Grow up. If this is how I’ve acted every St Pattys, I sincerely apologize.
Lately my relationship with my shower has been lackluster, to say the least. The blame lies on both of us – I bought a shower curtain liner that was ten inches too long so it bunches up under your feet when shower, and in return the shower has been slowly decreasing the water pressure to a slow drip. Maybe it was holding a grudge from the time I asked the super to come fix a leak and he manhandled the showerhead. Either way, today has been a long time coming.
I was convinced that a new showerhead was going to do the trick, so last week I bought a 7-speed and watched three “How to Install a Showerhead” videos online. I also took careful measurements of my shower and bought a new curtain liner that fit just right. This morning I bribed Dave with a delicious breakfast, then sent him out for the additional necessary materials. While I did the dishes, he changed the showerhead. When I was almost done, he called me into admire his handiwork.
I have never been so excited to see a non-leaky shower with moderate water pressure. It was beautiful. I put it through its paces – who uses the weird three-strong-jets-of-water-coming-out-the-center setting? – and settled on the “average shower” option. I was so inspired by the improvement that I “fixed” the clock in the kitchen (put a battery in it).
This Sunday has been a total success!
You think I’m going to let my $28 candle burn out when there’s an inch of wax left? Yeah right. I just dug out your inferior wick and jammed a tea light in there. I expect to get hours more scent out of you.
(Wick rage aside, I highly recommend this candle. It’s what I imagine heaven smells like.)
Got a free golf umbrella last week at a tree lighting. It’s nice, with a hooked wooden handle and everything.
Suck on that, everyone else. I’m going to walk around with this umbrella open CONSTANTLY and give up zero air-space on crowded sidewalks.