So it's been most of the first day flying solo in Troy, NY, and I've discovered a few things about my moving out here, the first one being: dang, I really, really brought a lot of stuff. On that same token, if I had maybe another 6 inches to the room, I wouldn't feel like I had said problem. But, whatever. I'm still moving things around. Second thing: having plants to take care of is really reassuring! I have a golden something-or-other and a bamboo plant, they sit by the window and suck up sunlight and water. D'aww, I'm being responsible!
Ain't that a shocker.
I looked up the name of the plant, but all I can remember now is that it's low-light acclimated and high water. What does that even mean? Do I water it twice a day? Every 5 hours? Or do I just climb up a ladder and pour water from the ceiling? C'mon, plant people, let's avoid the cryptic crap. Give me numbers!
And that'll be one of the few times you'll ever see me state a desire for numbers.
So far today, I woke up, Tony gave me an envelope with the rent check in it, saying that Marion the landlord would be around the apartment sometime that day to pick it up, and check out some of the problems that plague the various corners of the building, i.e., leaky skylight in the stairwell, water damage in the bathroom. Noon rolled around, I ran down to Tony's work, got a Loading Zone and zipped back to the apartment, hoping to be here when Mario arrived. One o'clock, dude doesn't show. Two, still no-show. I text Tony, he tells me not to panic. How the HELL am I panicking? I asked if Mario had told him he'd be late or something, how is that panicking?
Overreacting Italian.
Anyway, it's almost 5:30 EST, and Mario is utterly AWOL. And here I was looking forward to being able to assure the Italian Mafia that I was not a threat and would not mind carrying packages for them for a nominal fee! I'm a woman of simple needs.
So other than watching Tony play through the first episode of Alan Wake last night (which was interesting but really, really short), I crashed asleep almost immediately. It's hot, but not unbearable so far. Helps that I'm sleeping lower to the floor, rather than lofted, like I was thinking of looking into. Lofting would allow for more storage space...hrm. Things to think about!
On to the humidity: holy CRAP, what is going on with this state? It's rained every day since I've been here. And it doesn't seem to drop the humidity at all. I still have to wipe my face and clean my glasses every 20 minutes.
Okay, enough complaining! Do I have any stories about the apartment so far...hmm.
So moving in. There's no elevator, which isn't really a bummer, to be honest. What's the bummer is the stairs. These stairs were designed by someone addicted to painkillers. How else would you explain the normal-looking flight, and then the twisty-turny horrible narrow, misaligned stairway that leads you up? It was horrifyingly painful on the knees, ONE TRIP UP with a fairly light box, and I was almost crying. I'm out of shape, don't get me wrong, I don't claim to be Chyna (who would do that anyway, that chick is fugleh), but I still think there MUST be a better alternative. Like a block and pulley system out the from window? I'd run that. But nooo, we, meaning Mom and I and Tony, hauled up SO MUCH HORRIBLE CRAP, it made me wish I'd changed my mind. And it wasn't the weight, it was the weight and the bulk and the twisty-turny-timey-wimey UGH. At least we figured out how to use the tarp as a hammock for the second-to-last load.
Ain't we a buncha stinkas?
Anyway, I'll probably post more about this tonight, and about the desk fiasco, after Tony and I go running around. I'm off to pick him up at work, and by pick him up, I mean walk down there and meet him and his car.
Ciao!
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