Monday, April 17, 2017

Dudes et al.

Ironic that one of the main reasons I'm moving out of my current place is because of the constant yelling of the black guy downstairs... and the first thing I hear upon carting a few boxes into my new place earlier this week: a black maintenance-guy yelling on the phone in the work-room next door to my new apartment. I only had a few things to transport on the day that I picked up my key; the whole 20 minutes, though, the guy was yelling and I could hear him all through my apartment.

I've  been moving a few boxes at a time since last Friday. The real movers will come this Thursday to do the heavy furniture; in the meantime, my goal is to transport odds-n-ends from a room a day through Wednesday.

Although my new apartment is huge (you could actually roller-skate in my living room), the down-side is: While I'm paying a lot for my apartment, there are many other lesser-priced apartments surrounding it. The complex ranges from efficiencies to 3-bedrooms. (I've got a 2/2.) I didn't think that much of it when the apartment manager first took me on a tour weeks ago: The place looked well-tended and seemed quiet during our tour. One thing I noticed, though, on the day that I took the tour and signed my lease: In the building overlooking my small backyard-to-be: Three chairs and a grill outside one apartment. Now, TWO chairs might indicate a couple who liked to sit outside and chat quietly amongst themselves. But THREE chairs?

While I was moving in this weekend, I unfortunately proved my instincts right: During both Saturday and Sunday while moving, a trio of raggedy-looking "Dudes" were hanging out and smoking there. Two were raggedy 20-somethings; the third was a raggedy late-40-something. I said "hello" the first time I passed them carrying a box. As I marched on back and forth with my boxes, the Dudes would stop their conversation and stare. I nodded the first few times, then got annoyed. (Mind your business, Dudes!) Caught a bit of their conversation as I passed: One guy had had his driver's license revoked but hoped to have it reinstated soon.

Over 2 days of my hauling boxes with these guys staring: Their apartment building overlooking mine housed smaller 1-bedroom units. What were two 20-somethings and a 40-something doing living together? Their collective haggard look (and collective dog-walking -- all 3 of the same guys -- which I noticed on one of my later delivery trips) indicated not that they were gay, but that they were sharing something of a halfway house, recuperating and smoking-rather-than-drinking together for $945 per month.

Good for them. But bad for me, since their 3-seat stoop directly overlooks what I'd thought was a bonus of my new place: a backyard. It ain't no backyard for me with 3 Dudes hanging out just above it.

In other Moving-In News: The parking lot where I parked while hauling boxes abutted a small backyard of a tenant's apartment. At 9am Sunday when I arrived, a rough-looking white guy and a couple of Hispanic women were out at their backyard table smoking. I said "Good morning" the first time I passed, but not one of them replied. (I always find that odd: Not responding to a direct greeting!) I had several loads to pick up from my car, and so passed their area several times. I always looked over at them to potentially greet, but not once did they acknowledge me, even though I was a mere 3 feet away from them.

I think my take-away is: If you get a raise and have more money to spend on a place... Get a place where your fellow tenants' income is similar to yours. Not some apparent "mixed-income" refuge that you must share with the Shitty Poor. (As opposed to "The Poor Who Are Trying," as I once was.)

I wonder where/when/with whom I'll begin to live my life.

No comments: