New Digs, 24th Birthday, and Unwanted Companions

Hi y’all,

For the first time, I writing this from work, as I don’t have internet yet in my NEW APARTMENT! Lemme explain.

So after the living fiasco with C, which ended up not working out, because after ALL of that, her roommate decided he didn’t want to move out (thanks dude). So I was dragging my feet (figuratively and literally because I was sick for what felt like decades) on finding a new place, hoping that her roommate would reconsider. Then one fateful Thursday night (about 2 weeks before my birthday) I’m arranging my take-out on my bed in preparation for a couple hours worth of True Blood (I was really, pathetically sick) and I notice a strange black spot on my comforter. ‘What is this mysterious thing?’ I wonder.

IT’S A BUG.

And not just any bug.

IT’S A BED BUG.

Life erupts.

And so, if you’re wondering why I haven’t been frantically updating the blog (other than the fact that I, essentially, am cursed with the herpes of a New York existence) it’s because I have been holed up in laundromats, hardware stores, and Bed Bath and Beyond trying to find the magical potion that will rid me of this infernal torture forever. In the midst of this madness, I also began to look for a new apartment (because nothing, NOTHING will light a fire under your ass to do something like microscopic vampire creatures that make a nest out of your life). I scoured apartment websites and even enlisted my parents in the search, because working 40 hours a week and quarantining your life doesn’t leave you with a lot of free time. I was determined to find a place in Brooklyn close to C that was cute, reasonably priced, and not light years away from my work. I looked in Bushwick, Greenpoint, and (with the understanding that it, would never, ever happen) Williamsburg. But strangely, all the places that I found were not only teetering on the edge of my maximum price range, they were also super tiny, not very well kept, and it pretty average parts of Brooklyn. Because I was so desperate to leave my current apartment, I resigned myself to living in a really average studio apartment and just making do until I could live with S and C.

And then the mothership appeared.

My mum (being the amazing woman that she is) was looking on a website and found a beautiful studio apartment that was extremely reasonably priced. Extremely, because it’s in midtown. Yes, a reasonably priced, studio apartment in Manhattan, directly (and I mean directly) around the corner from where I work. Even though it sounded amazing, I wasn’t totally on board. One, it sounded too good to be true, and two, living in Manhattan? I never once thought that would even be in the realm of possibilities.

The week of my birthday, my dad came up for business meetings, and was super excited to go apartment hunting with me (he watches House Hunters religiously, so this was like a dream come true). We went to go check out the place, and it really, legitimately, is around the corner from my job. It’s above a sushi restaurant, and if you go onto the rooftop (yes, yes, it has one of those!!) you can see the Hearst Tower in all it’s glory (which considering my brief time as in intern there, is ironic (and yes, you may have just learned a little more about one of my many jobs this past year)).

In short- it’s perfect. And no surprise, I took it. I signed the lease (with my parents as guarantors, because what normal person just starting out makes 40x their rent??) on my birthday. Some people celebrate their 24th birthday with shots, I signed a 2 year lease (oh well, and saw Neil Patrick Harris in Hedwig and the Angry Inch, so it was joyous all around).

So while I now have a beautiful apartment that I love and adore, I’m still waging WWIII with the insects in my old place. Every day I travel about an hour to my old place with a laundry cart and bring back items that have either been dried for an hour on high heat, frozen for 48 hours in the freezer, or baked in the oven for 25 minutes (you think I’m kidding, I’m seriously not). I’ve had the exterminator come multiple times to do treatments (they’re coming tonight to my old place, and they’re coming tomorrow to my new one to inspect) but I keep waking up with bites (which can show up on you the next morning after you’ve been bit or up to two weeks later). The amount of mind fuckery that has ensued because of this is maddening. I can’t even begin to tell you how stressful it is, not to mention what a pain in the ass it is to walk in the door, throw your clothes in a garbage bag, stuff your shoes in the freezer, and promptly shower, just because I’ve set foot in my old apartment.

Side note- there is nothing more humiliating than going to a Bed Bath and Beyond in a bougie neighborhood (Columbus Circle), sweaty, dirty, and covered in bug poison, and asking an employee where the bed bug mattress cases are located, while rich housewives buying $50 stainless steel trashcans and $150 bamboo cutting boards stare at you in horror.

So folks, this is my life at the moment, brought to you exclusively from the front lines of hell. Stay tuned for the good bits i.e. when I’m no longer sleeping on a mattress on the floor that is surrounded by diatomaceous earth (bed bug repeller) and eating out of take out containers because exhaustion (and poison).

Don’t let the bed bugs bite (but seriously),

Jz.

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