Thursday, June 23, 2011

The Migration of the Atlantic Hermit Crab

It's been over a week since I touched a knitting needle or yarn, except to clean them up or put them away. I know- I've tried to schedule a psych appointment, but the clinic is pretty backed up right now.

 In all actuality, the bulk of my time has been devoted to stressing, freaking, and hunting the web till my eyes go bloodshot, that goes with trying to find a new apartment as soon as possible. This has been especially difficult, given that the Boston Housing Market has a peculiar seasonal behavior unlike anywhere else in the country- maybe the world, by my knowledge- which is heavily influenced by the concentration of universities and the like. The rule of thumb is that all leases in Eastern Massachusetts start and end on September 1st, but it's a little more curious than that. Ten months of the year, apartments are scarce to the point of legendary. Then, at the end of April, a coveted handful of apartments crops up. The graduating class, transfers, and newly-christened "Young Professionals," (and let's face it- drop-outs that can't get Mom and Dad to pay for their partying any more) have flown the coup, leaving their landlords scrambling to fill their vacancies. But as the days get hotter, these early bloomers get fewer and fewer. That is, of course, until August. By the last week of August, a prospective tenant may very well have their pick of residence. I've literally seen processions, of real estate agents and clients taking turns for viewings. Of course, one problem arising from scheduling and entire metropolitan area for moving simultaneously is the outlandish traffic. My theory is that August 30-September 2 is what sets up the entire reputation of Massachusetts drivers.

Anyway, despite everything, we seem to have found a place for us from the Spring Flee. It's not a done deal, but I feel like I can finally chill with my charts and yarn.

As per my hat pattern, I'm practically done. It's lovely, it's exactly what I wanted, and I've stalled. Jason finally started his full time position, and we couldn't be happier or more grateful about it, but my once on-call-jack-of-all-trades partner is now technically only available for photo shoot assistance in the evenings and on weekends. I haven't even had time to knit, much less time to get gussied up for picture worth publishing. Hopefully, I'll have something before the week is out.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Dear Neighbor...

Dear Neighbor From The Floor Below,
You may not recall, but you stumbled into my apartment at about 3:30AM the other night, piss drunk, wearing nothing but your boxers. I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for your visit:
  • First, thank you for wearing the boxers with the button. Not that they leave much to the imagination- it just goes to show that being 6' 3'' and built, doesn't necessarily imply endowment. I trust that "Sherry," (or whomever) doesn't mind. 
  • Thank you for giving some legitimacy to my little girl's freak-outs. Lately she's been acting strangely agoraphobic in the stairwell. Instead of going down the stairs ahead of me, as I'd like, she jumps up clamps onto me like a starfish, fussing at the slightest noise about Strangers. I try to assure her that we know everyone in the building, and no strangers can get in the front door. But it all must sound like the adults on Charlie Brown for the good it does. After your behavior the other night, I'll definitely be more patient with her from here on out. 
  • And finally, thank you for teaching me the valuable lesson, that even if our building is security-card access, we are acquainted with or neighbors, or even awake, there still may be a good reason to lock our door.  
Now, if I may offer a word of advice: Life can actually be fun, entertaining, and meaningful without getting plastered every single weekend (or in this case, the middle of the week)! Being sober doesn't mean being an Old Fogy (I'm only a year older than you- judging by your assurances to my husband that "Dude, I've lived in this apartment for 6 years,") nor does it imply having a stick up your butt. Ironically, it's the other way around, and your head- it's no accident they call it getting "Sh**faced."

The Apartment Above Yours

    • Friday, June 3, 2011

      There's No Harm in Trying.

      Do you think that if you want something hard enough, that it will happen, or is that just for the rare few? Even the seemingly impossible? The pipe-dreams?
      I've been designing my own knit pieces, more or less, for some time now. Trusted friends and passing acquaintances alike have been complimentary, even asking if I sell and flatly declaring that I should. I haven't gotten to the point of publishing or selling them for one reason or another; frankly, I think being a chicken has been a big factor.  But I'm at a point where I have, literally, nothing to lose, and I want it bad enough that I have to try.
      The truth is that we can't stay in this apartment. We don't have the money. We've know we have to find a new place for a long time, but as all of the new job leads dried up we burned through our down-payment money. Jason's been doing what he can to find freelance while applying for permanent positions, but it isn't enough. I've been out of the workforce for 5 years raising our two kids, but that's been foundational to our parenting philosophies. Throw in child care costs, education, so much more, it just gets wicked complicated.
      I was lying in bed the other night, wide awake between 3:30 and 4:00 AM trying to figure out what to do. I had/have to do something. Yarn wasn't even in my mental slide show when, suddenly, a design for a hat from start to finish slams my brain! It was too good- I couldn't not try. Anyway, I would love it and wear it constantly. I've been aching for good hats to wear without overheating, as my hair is growing to unmanageable lengths- for me, that is.
      I was walking home from Washington Street the other day, looking at the ivy and dogwood trees in front of brownstone townhouses, wanting so badly to have a place of our own like that- not somewhere to stay till the lease is up and cheaper rent comes along. Not somewhere to stay until the kids are too old to share a room. Somewhere they can grow up. I started to get the determined, almost defiant feeling I get when I isolate what it is I want, and decide that I'm going to do it- I'm going to do whatever I can do to make it happen. It's the fuel that got us to Boston, and it's the sole cause of anything else I've ever done that's worth noting. So here it is. Let's do this. I'm ready.