The Blog of d10

Bets and I have been friends forever.  True friends.  Years ago we had considered sharing an apartment.  The only argument I ever remember having with her was who would get the larger bedroom of the two in a place we had found.  Both of us are "givers" and both opting for the smaller.  We had looked for weeks and the thought of risking our friendship was not worth the arrangement. 

Late December, the phone rings and it's Bets.  She is going to look at a place in town that is available and they actually have two apartments - will I come and help her choose? A month earlier, Kate (her Mom) had heard about a DOA on her police band radio and they waited 15 minutes and called about any available apartment openings.  Poor dead Jim was getting the bums rush and he was still warm.  The apartment was now available to see.  Sure, I'll come.  Kate and Bets would pick me up in 20 minutes. 

The landlord is an old woman from Canada. She looked like an owl.  She is out of place in the basement apartment.  She is a very refined woman with lovely taste that seems stuck as if she was in an episode of "The Twilight Zone".  Turns out, her husband (an American) was the super here and he passed away many years ago.  The owner didn't have the heart to put the old Owl out. W hired a handyman for easy repairs and Nancy would take care of the rentals and rents.  For years, this was Owl's life.

Owl grabs the keys off the board and the three of us follow her to the first floor studio available.  There are 8 apartments on each floor, 7 doors opened to check us out.  Old women, all of the faces staring at us. 

Nice apartment - clean, nice size in the middle of the building, just painted white, nice.   

We then were off the the fifth floor studio (dead Jim's place).  The gate elevator opens and again 7 old, wrinkled faces peering from the doorways.  This is wild!

This apartment is a corner unit painted French's mustard yellow.  It was hideous.  Ceiling and walls just screamed when the door opened. With windows all around, the light streamed in. So bright!  I had to have it!  It was perfect!  I saw right through the ugly color and the potential this place offered.  End unit, top floor, right next to the elevator, across from the stairs, no real neighbors other than the fourth floor tenant.  Nothing a rug couldn't take care of.

Back to the basement with Owl.  Now, I am Bet's closest friend.  I can't help her choose because I want the 5th floor and no matter which way I take this conversation, it will not be in her best interest.   I told her when I was asked, "... the traffic noise on the first floor but it's move in ready, the security of the fifth floor but what a mess it is, you're the one, who has to live there, you need to make this decision."  She choose the first floor.  She would have to wait until the 1st of the month.  I was so happy for her, knowing it was her decision and now, I ask: "Owl, is there a waiting list or can I have the 5th floor apartment?" "I can, great." Dead Jim's apartment was available to me and I moved in that day.  The four of us carried on in Owl's apartment like little girls.  Everyone had something to be happy about.  Owl pulls out a bottle of sherry.  I having seen all the old faces, without any self control or thought (much to my personality) add "here's to Menopause Manor".

I slept in that mustard colored apartment that very night.  It eventually got painted and my personality took over decorating, an ecletic style that only first apartment can have. It was a beautiful, fun place for me.  Those old faces in the halls became treasured friends.  My best pal living downstairs, it was the greatest of solutions.   It was then and is to this day, my favorite place I ever lived.