Here you'll find current musings, as well as the archives from two blogs of yesteryear: YoungMarriedMom and What I Learned While Writing a Novel. Please comment and share. We love well when we are in conversation with one another.
Apartment hunting in New York can make you do some weird things.
Like take your baby out of his crib at 9pm on a weeknight to walk twenty minutes to look at an apartment. Seriously. There were repercussions the day (or two) after, as should be expected.
Alas, if that weren’t weird enough, when we called the broker, he said there were two units in the building, both of which were unlocked. Whenever we wanted we could go over, ring into some other—any other—tenant’s apartment, and waltz right in to look around.
If that still weren’t weird enough, we decided to take Jacob in the sling, with a blanket over his head to try to keep him asleep (this was unsuccessful). So when we got to the door of the building and rang the kind folks on the first floor, we were literally a man, his wife, and their young child, wrapped in something like swaddling clothes, looking for somewhere to stay. Sound familiar?
On the other hand, if you’re of a less religious persuasion, we may have looked like a man, his wife, and their baby ghost.
Either way, the apartment wasn’t right for us—two or three flights up with rooms that may or may not (more like, may not) fit our furniture just doesn’t fit the bill.
At least we got a good story and an even better photo out of it.
[…] remained were the apartments we made appointments to view, only to trek there (with Jacob . . . although not at nine p.m.) and find no realtor, no phone call, no text message, no nothing. Then there were the ones for […]