Obviously, there was time spent in a dorm or two in college at SUNY Oneonta. I had a revolving door of roommates every semester until I finally was granted a single room. Saying "single room" makes it sound as though I had an entire normal size room to myself. What I had, in actuality, was what I, lovingly, referred to as a shoebox with a bed in it. But it was MY shoebox with a bed in it! Having a friend over was too complicated and claustrophobic, so I visited others' rooms to socialize. I spent most of that year in the theater anyway.
Whenever I had my own apartment, I have loved it and made it mine. I had a cool apartment in Oneonta over a 3 car garage for a little while. We called it "The Web" due to all the spider webs throughout the stairwell. And this was before the real web of the internet existed. I had a sunny apartment with a great porch overlooking Ashford Avenue in Dobbs Ferry.
My favorite apartment was in Cleveland, Tennessee. It was the closest thing to a home that I have had in a long time. It was bright and beautiful. I had friends over all the time; all my dragonfly prints and statues were out on display. It was simple, but it was cozy. And I haven't been able to have that again...so far.
Since 2009, I have had more than my share of renting rooms from people. I rented a room from a crazy cat lady for a year. She had post it notes on everything. I thought that was for my benefit: "pots" labeled the cabinet for pots in the kitchen, "silverware" on the drawer, etc. However, after I removed those post-its when I became familiar with everything...they were replaced right away. I soon realized these post-its were for her. Then I really noticed them. There was a post-it on the pull string for the fan. It said FAN. One in the shower gave directions for using the shower. And one large post-it on the back of the front door listing her name and address! Even more weird than the labeling everything in the apartment, was her stuffed teddy bear fetish. She had an extremely hard time (I mean, panic attack level) finding me a spot on her sectional sofa because she didn't want to move her stuffed animals. Eventually she gave me her space while she took her cat's spot...but she bitched about it every chance she got.
When I had enough of that crazy train, I boarded another...I just didn't know how much crazy I was getting into. I answered a craigslist ad for a room. I know I know I know! But this was before people were murdering or raping people who answered Craigslist ads. Back when it was a legit place to find housing or a job! Plus, they would let me keep my cat - that is huge when trying to find a room to rent.
It was a gorgeous house on the Hastings/Yonkers border...right on the Hudson River. I met with the owner of the house and her girlfriend. Ends up that her girlfriend used to be a counselor at the middle school and knew of my family. They didn't seem like psychopathic murderers, so I planned to move into their attic room a month later.
Apparently, they made a bunch of changes in that one month. When I moved in, there were other tenants in the other bedrooms. The landladies had decided to rent out all of their spare rooms through airbnb.com. However, all of the tenants had to share one bathroom! This was not what I signed on to. As I'm carrying boxes up the insane amount of stairs to my great attic room, I passed what seemed to be a small delegation from the UN. The three other rental rooms housed guests from all over the world. While airbnb.com was just hitting America, it was a booming business in Europe and the rest of the world. And it seems as though, every tourist to NY, stayed for awhile at my new home.
The traveling guests weren't so bad (well, some were!); the landladies were the main issue. Sue and Helen (yes I gave them fake names to cover up their crazy!) were having problems and every single person who spent time at the house knew it. With Sue sleeping on the couch and Helen not coming home until late, the two of them fought like crazy. You could feel the tension in the house when you opened the door. Finally, Sue moved back to Holland...or was it Denmark? I don't know anymore; I tried to tune out their yelling and drama.
With Sue gone, Helen didn't know what to do with the guests. She really never wanted to rent out the rooms, but now that she was getting good money, she couldn't kick people out. But Helen is not what you would call a people person. (Although she is a social worker - that does not mean you are a people person...though you should be one!) Helen asked for my help in exchange for rent. Worked for me! Especially since I did not have any secure jobs during my four years at that house.
Little did I know, I would soon become Helen's indentured servant. It started simply enough. I was to clean the main rooms of the house once every week and clean the guest bedrooms between guests. It then became greeting the guests, giving them directions/train times to NYC, checking out guests, and cleaning her bedroom and bathroom. But then we had some really nasty guests and cleaning once a week wasn't good enough. And then it became winter and Sue was the one who always shoveled the snow off the 25 steep steps, the patio and then the other 5 steps to the front door. And since I was shoveling for hours, couldn't I shovel out her car too...didn't I know that she had a bad back?
It spiraled out of control. And when I asked to go back to paying my full rent and not doing these "chores," Helen told me that was not going to happen. When she went through a season of putting the house on the market to see if there was any interest, it became even worse. Helen texted me at all times of the day, while I was at work, while I was sleeping - it never ended. Finally, she said she wanted all the long-term tenants out so she could work on selling the house without inconveniencing everyone. So, we all moved out. The house has not sold and now she has no income from renters or anyone to clean or shovel. Helen did actually text me the winter after I moved out and asked me to come shovel for her. She had no problem, seriously asking me to drive 2 hours to shovel her steps and around her car. The woman has major issues. And I am so very glad I am not there anymore.
Now, currently living in my grandparent's house, I am living on my own, but not in my own home. This house hasn't been lived in for nearly 4 or 5 years. Spiders have taken over the entire house, along with the mold. And it isn't my own space. I live out of my duffle bags and boxes. I don't have a bureau or a desk or anything. And I'm not sure I want any of that here. I put my clothes in Rubbermaid drawers and use my boxes as a table and nightstand. I make it work. But it is not home for me. Maybe next Spring, when I can finally move South again, I can find and make my home. Until then, I bloom where I'm planted and make the best out of the situation.
