In which I secure a new dwelling
Jul. 7th, 2005 11:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zdashamberWhere've I been? In Colorado, at a family reunion that actually was quite a bit of fun. Even my second cousins are neat people.
But what about before that? Well, it hit me about 10 days ago when we mailed the landlady our 30 days notice: the 31st of July is the last day I get to have my stuff and self in this lovely room I presently take such pleasure in occupying. This means that said stuff needs to be sorted and packed, and said self needs to locate the next place that will be blessed with my presence.
I'd thought for a while of renting a room with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
motleypolitico, which would have been splendid. He and Mary are great. And his mulberry tree! Yet it would be an impossible commute to my present job. I was at the time thinking of just starting my own business, but after some thought I felt it would be good to start a business while I still had a day job, and I have not located a job down there.
I suppose it's a good thing I'm sticking with a day job. I'd idly thought I could live off my savings for a bit, until I had a somewhat depressing talk with Dad while in Colorado about how much I'd need a month. I'm currently paying $700 a month in rent for a spacious well-lit place with a washer and dryer. I figured I could move to a cheaper place; say $500. Car payments + gas are ~$350 a month, and insurance probably ~$150. Guessing $200 for ultilities and groceries. Add on several hundred for ridiculously low estimates in that last and entertainment, and that's $1500 a month, which Mom points out needs to be more like $1900 to cover taxes. $4-500 a week equals a full-time job paying $10-12 an hour. Part-time work to cover rent? Doesn't seem like such a viable option.
But, the real point of this post was to talk about housing, namely my new place. Ever since I moved out of the dorms I've lived in cool places. I'm moving slowly forward in cool-cultural-architecture time: the first was a Grimm Brothers house, this current one is a Sherlock Holmes house, and the one I just settled on today is an Addams Family house.
It's near downtown Oakland, which have I raved about? (It's really a neat downtown.) It has no parking. It does, however, have a bedroom for me with a lovely barrel-shaped ceiling and south-facing diamond-paned windows all along one side. And two housemates who seem really cool (with an unknown third to be moving in contemporaneous with me). It has a place for my dining room table, which is one of my two pieces of quality furniture (the other being my grand solid oak desk, with its ability to transform between bolted-on typewriter or writing surface). I can start moving in a week before the panic-move-day of the 31st.
Wednesday last week, before flying out Thursday, I spent making arrangements at work all day and packing all night, and in every minute of the post-work daylight hours I looked at four houses I'd lined up after emailing or phoning about eight people off craigslist. Two were places I think I'd've been happy to live, the Addams Family house and a fancy house down in the sketchy part of Oakland. One was a tiny little room with a bare bulb and a nice college sophmore showing it. One was shown by a guy whose personal soundtrack was the "skreet! skreet! skreet! skreet!" from "Psycho."
It had been listed again and again, every day. Looking for a "gender balance". Ok... The guy opened the door in a t-shirt so old and grimy it had holes you could stick a whole hand through. He walked through the muggy slimy house without pausing for inspections. When I was writing down my name and email address, he was bouncing and rolling around on an exercise ball, throwing plastic lids at a dead plant. He never stopped fidgeting. I asked him why every room but his opened up at once; he didn't meet my eyes as he suggested that the previous roommates just all decided to leave at the same time. I asked him why he was so keen on getting girls to balance out the guys; he said it just worked better that way. (Riiiiight. You want someone to do your dishes, hire a dishwasher, motherfucker.) I excused myself to leave, and he was honest-to-god sullen and angry. Little voice in my head, Psycho! Psycho! He's a psycho!
Ahwell. It all becomes stories in the end. :)
But what about before that? Well, it hit me about 10 days ago when we mailed the landlady our 30 days notice: the 31st of July is the last day I get to have my stuff and self in this lovely room I presently take such pleasure in occupying. This means that said stuff needs to be sorted and packed, and said self needs to locate the next place that will be blessed with my presence.
I'd thought for a while of renting a room with
motleypolitico, which would have been splendid. He and Mary are great. And his mulberry tree! Yet it would be an impossible commute to my present job. I was at the time thinking of just starting my own business, but after some thought I felt it would be good to start a business while I still had a day job, and I have not located a job down there.I suppose it's a good thing I'm sticking with a day job. I'd idly thought I could live off my savings for a bit, until I had a somewhat depressing talk with Dad while in Colorado about how much I'd need a month. I'm currently paying $700 a month in rent for a spacious well-lit place with a washer and dryer. I figured I could move to a cheaper place; say $500. Car payments + gas are ~$350 a month, and insurance probably ~$150. Guessing $200 for ultilities and groceries. Add on several hundred for ridiculously low estimates in that last and entertainment, and that's $1500 a month, which Mom points out needs to be more like $1900 to cover taxes. $4-500 a week equals a full-time job paying $10-12 an hour. Part-time work to cover rent? Doesn't seem like such a viable option.
But, the real point of this post was to talk about housing, namely my new place. Ever since I moved out of the dorms I've lived in cool places. I'm moving slowly forward in cool-cultural-architecture time: the first was a Grimm Brothers house, this current one is a Sherlock Holmes house, and the one I just settled on today is an Addams Family house.
It's near downtown Oakland, which have I raved about? (It's really a neat downtown.) It has no parking. It does, however, have a bedroom for me with a lovely barrel-shaped ceiling and south-facing diamond-paned windows all along one side. And two housemates who seem really cool (with an unknown third to be moving in contemporaneous with me). It has a place for my dining room table, which is one of my two pieces of quality furniture (the other being my grand solid oak desk, with its ability to transform between bolted-on typewriter or writing surface). I can start moving in a week before the panic-move-day of the 31st.
Wednesday last week, before flying out Thursday, I spent making arrangements at work all day and packing all night, and in every minute of the post-work daylight hours I looked at four houses I'd lined up after emailing or phoning about eight people off craigslist. Two were places I think I'd've been happy to live, the Addams Family house and a fancy house down in the sketchy part of Oakland. One was a tiny little room with a bare bulb and a nice college sophmore showing it. One was shown by a guy whose personal soundtrack was the "skreet! skreet! skreet! skreet!" from "Psycho."
It had been listed again and again, every day. Looking for a "gender balance". Ok... The guy opened the door in a t-shirt so old and grimy it had holes you could stick a whole hand through. He walked through the muggy slimy house without pausing for inspections. When I was writing down my name and email address, he was bouncing and rolling around on an exercise ball, throwing plastic lids at a dead plant. He never stopped fidgeting. I asked him why every room but his opened up at once; he didn't meet my eyes as he suggested that the previous roommates just all decided to leave at the same time. I asked him why he was so keen on getting girls to balance out the guys; he said it just worked better that way. (Riiiiight. You want someone to do your dishes, hire a dishwasher, motherfucker.) I excused myself to leave, and he was honest-to-god sullen and angry. Little voice in my head, Psycho! Psycho! He's a psycho!
Ahwell. It all becomes stories in the end. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-08 01:51 pm (UTC)