Showing posts with label apartment life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label apartment life. Show all posts
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Day 365: Things Get Real
Two house coat-clad crones
Scream and shout and throw wet clothes
In our laundry room
They were screaming in Russian, but I think it was about dryer rights.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Day 359: Somewhere in Brooklyn, 6:30 PM
I try not to see
The strange name on your buzzer
The new white curtains
The strange name on your buzzer
The new white curtains
Friday, March 2, 2012
Day 356: I'm exaggerating
They will pry the keys
To our rent-stabilized digs
From my cold, dead hands
Our apartment is a glorified closet by non-New York standards, but it's a glorified closet with a separate kitchen, hardwood floors, and a negligible annual rent increase. Okay, so rent-stabilized apartments are pretty common. Don't rain on my parade.
To our rent-stabilized digs
From my cold, dead hands
Our apartment is a glorified closet by non-New York standards, but it's a glorified closet with a separate kitchen, hardwood floors, and a negligible annual rent increase. Okay, so rent-stabilized apartments are pretty common. Don't rain on my parade.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Day 222: Being Neighborly
"You are challah girl?"*
Asks the neighbor who can tell
When we bake our bread
*For the sake of accuracy, read this line in a thick Russian accent.
When I first moved into this apartment 2 1/2 years ago (has it been that long?) I was intimidated by the other residents. Nearly all of them are older Russian folks. I heard a lot of gruff, guttural raised voices behind apartment doors and through windows, leading to an immediate assumption that they were all talking about how much they hated me. However, in the time that I have lived here I've realized that while most of the people in the building are not particularly friendly, they are secretly sweet. There's the lady downstairs who barely speaks English but always gives me a big smile, asks how I'm doing, and looks confused as she puzzles out my answer. There's the man with the little girl from the second floor who invited us to borrow a cup of walnuts the day Intrepid Boyfriend and I were coming back from the grocery store, ready to bake, and I realized that I had forgotten them.
Oh, and just to clarify, I am not actually Challah Girl (sadly). Intrepid Boyfriend is Challah Boy. Check out his recipe here, and you just might find friends and neighbors drifting toward your own kitchen, lured by the delicious aroma of baking perfection.
Asks the neighbor who can tell
When we bake our bread
*For the sake of accuracy, read this line in a thick Russian accent.
When I first moved into this apartment 2 1/2 years ago (has it been that long?) I was intimidated by the other residents. Nearly all of them are older Russian folks. I heard a lot of gruff, guttural raised voices behind apartment doors and through windows, leading to an immediate assumption that they were all talking about how much they hated me. However, in the time that I have lived here I've realized that while most of the people in the building are not particularly friendly, they are secretly sweet. There's the lady downstairs who barely speaks English but always gives me a big smile, asks how I'm doing, and looks confused as she puzzles out my answer. There's the man with the little girl from the second floor who invited us to borrow a cup of walnuts the day Intrepid Boyfriend and I were coming back from the grocery store, ready to bake, and I realized that I had forgotten them.
Oh, and just to clarify, I am not actually Challah Girl (sadly). Intrepid Boyfriend is Challah Boy. Check out his recipe here, and you just might find friends and neighbors drifting toward your own kitchen, lured by the delicious aroma of baking perfection.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Day 217: Lookin' good!
A frowsy woman
Steps out for a cigarette
In her red bathrobe
As I walked past my Russian neighbor in her ancient robe and slippers, enjoying one last cigarette before retiring for the night, I couldn't help but admire her confidence -- if not her fashion sense.
Steps out for a cigarette
In her red bathrobe
As I walked past my Russian neighbor in her ancient robe and slippers, enjoying one last cigarette before retiring for the night, I couldn't help but admire her confidence -- if not her fashion sense.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day 135: Peter Pan apartments
Like glorified dorms
For the many New Yorkers
Who can't quite grow up
(It's a big thing in NY to build huge, expensive apartment buildings geared towards well-heeled twenty- and thirty-somethings who feel a profound need to socialize with their neighbors [judging from the ads, this is related to their hopes of finding equally well-heeled boy/girlfriends]. These buildings include yuppie-friendly amenities like lobby coffee bars, screening rooms, and Aspen lodge-themed "extended living rooms" with skee-ball and billiards. Their print ads are laughably annoying, with some qualifying as borderline lewd.)
For the many New Yorkers
Who can't quite grow up
(It's a big thing in NY to build huge, expensive apartment buildings geared towards well-heeled twenty- and thirty-somethings who feel a profound need to socialize with their neighbors [judging from the ads, this is related to their hopes of finding equally well-heeled boy/girlfriends]. These buildings include yuppie-friendly amenities like lobby coffee bars, screening rooms, and Aspen lodge-themed "extended living rooms" with skee-ball and billiards. Their print ads are laughably annoying, with some qualifying as borderline lewd.)
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Day 119: Channeling my inner old person
Skateboarders outside
This could be my chance to yell
"Hey! Get off my lawn!"
(I've promised Intrepid Boyfriend that I won't do it. They really don't bother me very much, but when else will I have the opportunity?)
This could be my chance to yell
"Hey! Get off my lawn!"
(I've promised Intrepid Boyfriend that I won't do it. They really don't bother me very much, but when else will I have the opportunity?)
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Day 104: They probably know just how much I talk to the cat
Are they fighting or
Does it just sound that way since
It's all in Russian?
(It's impossible to tell whether our elderly neighbors are scolding each other about something or declaring their undying love. A Ukrainian friend assures me that it would probably sound the same either way.)
Does it just sound that way since
It's all in Russian?
(It's impossible to tell whether our elderly neighbors are scolding each other about something or declaring their undying love. A Ukrainian friend assures me that it would probably sound the same either way.)
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Day 99: one of the many joys of apartment life
What are they cooking?
The funk seeps through doors and walls
Like a toxic haze
(The other night I walked into our apartment and was assaulted by such a horrible odor that I assumed the cat had had some kind of smelly accident. We traced the smell to, of all places, the kitchen closet. I became worried that an especially smelly mouse had somehow managed to sneak into our building and die in our closet. I held the flashlight while Intrepid Boyfriend searched every inch of the closet. We finally determined that the smell was emanating from the wall. Our neighbor's kitchen is on the other side of that wall; our kitchens share a fire escape. What could they have possibly been eating that night? Rodent souffle? Stewed garbage? More importantly, can I send them our dry cleaning bill?)
The funk seeps through doors and walls
Like a toxic haze
(The other night I walked into our apartment and was assaulted by such a horrible odor that I assumed the cat had had some kind of smelly accident. We traced the smell to, of all places, the kitchen closet. I became worried that an especially smelly mouse had somehow managed to sneak into our building and die in our closet. I held the flashlight while Intrepid Boyfriend searched every inch of the closet. We finally determined that the smell was emanating from the wall. Our neighbor's kitchen is on the other side of that wall; our kitchens share a fire escape. What could they have possibly been eating that night? Rodent souffle? Stewed garbage? More importantly, can I send them our dry cleaning bill?)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Day 66: unpleasant memories
And upon my worst
Sworn enemy from high school
I shall wish bedbugs
(Those subway ads for mattress covers make my skin crawl. Almost two years after an infestation left me between apartments for two months, sometimes I still need to move to a different car rather than face pictures of enormous bedbugs.)
Sworn enemy from high school
I shall wish bedbugs
(Those subway ads for mattress covers make my skin crawl. Almost two years after an infestation left me between apartments for two months, sometimes I still need to move to a different car rather than face pictures of enormous bedbugs.)
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Day 52: What's cookin'?
Taco night on two
Smells like brownies on five and
Pierogis on six
(Ah, the scents of a Brooklyn apartment building. Ours is a melange of multicultural food aromas, often delicious, and only occasionally ruined by the resident chain-smoker or some malodorous borscht.)
Smells like brownies on five and
Pierogis on six
(Ah, the scents of a Brooklyn apartment building. Ours is a melange of multicultural food aromas, often delicious, and only occasionally ruined by the resident chain-smoker or some malodorous borscht.)
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
