April 02, 2007

Ghosts of Apartments Past

I moved into my apartment almost a year ago. This is my first home without a roommate, the New York City first/second etc. apartment requisite for many young folks. Solo life has been good (minus the crazy downstairs neighbors with pitbulls, funky smells emanating from the first floor, weird building issues).

Having lived with roommates off and on since college, I firmly believe that privacy, the freedom to walk through the apartment door whenever with whomever and in whatever condition, a space free of the overpowering reek of fish and the peace of mind from worrying whether your roommate will flake out of paying her share of the bills on time again (can you tell that I'm still a wee bitter about my last apartment share experience?) are worth the minuses of my building.

I love the intense blue of my bedroom walls.

The funny thing about living here is the variety of mail for previous tenants, which still ends up in my mailbox. Quite a few folks have called this place home. Based on the junk mail and return addresses of letters which they've received, I have crafted the following profiles for them:

Russell - on the run from the IRS whose after him for $267,982 in unpaid taxes
Jo - extremely devout Catholic with a taste for Shepherd's pie and fish and chips
Lisa - cash-strapped executive assistant and part-time CUNY graduate student
Jo Ann - fitness trainer
Emma - multimedia artist now living in Greenpoint with a vegan collective

How far off I am from the truth is anyone's guess. Wonder what my junk mail will say about me -- currently spread out on my coffee table:

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