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Posts Tagged ‘apartment’

i woke up early this morning and had some of the left over couscous for breakfast. the lawn mowers had started earlier than usual in the courtyard, which i suppose is a valid punishment for those, like me, with mondays off.

we still had orange juice and that’s big.

i read a few articles of last weeks economist and folded a few things.

when my jeremy finally got up around one, he went straight for the orange juice.

i said, “so you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“let’s get it over with,” he said.

“okay so maybe i lied. no bad news today.”

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My roommate doesn’t have a bed yet. It’s been almost three weeks and he sleeps on the floor.

But he did spend at least two days setting up this beauty.

My favorite detail?  Besides… you know… the books…

The box of bourbon’s finest.

Second favorite detail…

Yes, my friends, that IS a Darwin monkey book end helping Joyce’s Ulysses to find its footing.

This is what I wake up to every morning. Sure, I could buy an actual bookshelf. Or I could spend that money on a book of Ryokan’s poetry. I mean c’mon, which would you chose?

And residing over it all, the chairman of the Spaß. One must give reverence.

So what is the Spaß?

In short, it’s our new apartment.

Jeremy came up with the idea that he wanted to name our apartment after a guerilla movement. I thought it a fine idea and started some research.

Spaßguerilla, which apparently means “fun guerilla” was “a grouping within the student protest movement of the 1960s in Germany that agitated for social change, in particular for a more libertarian, less authoritarian, and less materialistic society, using tactics characterized by disrespectful humour and provocative and disruptive actions of a minimally violent nature.”

It is pronounced “Spassguerilla” and if we were to shorten that, we could called it “the spaß” or “the spass” which almost sounds like “the space” and looks like “the spa” but also means “the fun.”

The word “Spassguerilla” itself is interesting. Though the normal German spelling is Spaßguerilla, it was spelled Spassguerilla by Fritz Teufel and this therefore became known as the “teuflische Schreibweise” (a pun meaning either “Teufelian” spelling or “diabolical spelling”; Teufel in German means devil). This spelling is retained by some, including academics (see references). The use of “ss” rather than “ß” implies a short “a” sound, making the word more like Stadtguerilla (urban guerrilla), a term used by Rudi Dutschke.”

So we live in a subversive German potentially demonic urban space spa of fun.

The name stuck real fast.

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I’ve been unpacking all week. A friend made fun of me for having a box labeled, “Books: Contemporary American Literature Box 3 and Export Commodities.”

Here’s another, “Clothes to be revisited box 2.” Still not sure what I was going for with that.

I always tell myself I want things like the perfect toilet brush or silverware without plastic handles. But moving in always seems to require the same mass immigration of stuff. I bought the plastic blue one because it was three dollars cheaper than the metal one.

You’d think packing up everything you own into many small oddly labeled boxes would make you reconsider buying random stuff.

It doesn’t.

Today, I bought a wooden spoon. My roommate bought a lacquer platter with an old map of Cyprus on it.

It’s for the bathroom. We keep our hand soap on it.

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Leaving the grocery store, her bags of bottles weighing down her arms, she kept repeating the same thing,”Basement apartment… Basement apartment… Basement apartment.”

Then the next day, coming out of the pharmacy, “Treehouse… Treehouse… Treehouse…”

… Getting coffee, “Salty sea air… Salty sea air… Salty sea air.”

She tried not to let it calm her, though it always did.

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I feel like a grown up now that my apartment has a washer and dryer without coin slots.

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I once found an old library card in New York that someone had dropped.  I put it in some journal at the time.  I recently found it and slipped it in my father’s wallet, in there with the other cards.  He’ll be ruminating over that one for weeks.

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I remember going into my grandmother’s basement for slide projector shows.  My uncle would put the curtain over the window and my grandfather would point out everyone who was dead.

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When ever my old landlord would come over, I never knew where to put my hands. You can’t sit down when these things happen and it would happen often. My roommate was never home and would leave empty beer bottles in well arranged pyramids near the kitchen window. The landlord would comment on them, not to say that it was wrong, but almost in a way that would show that he was disappointed he wasn’t invited. I’d have to explain to him that no, it wasn’t a party, it’s just that my roommate has two beers for breakfast each morning.

He was foreign in a way that could have been Eastern European or Latin American depending on what you had him talking about. He liked to talk about girls a lot. This explains the hands dilemma. 

He came over once and asked about a girl he saw me come home with. I explained that it was just a friend and he stole a pair of my shoes from right outside the door on the way out. I saw him do it.

A few weeks later, I had told him that I had gotten some things stolen from the apartment and he almost started crying. He took his hat off and wiped his brow. He said, “These things happen. I once told myself I could live without shoes and then I cut up my feet outside. That was six years ago.”

I saw him once after I had moved out. He told me that the people who are in the apartment now grow dill on the window sill and sometimes give him some. He doesn’t visit them often though, he told me.

I just wish I had more pairs of shoes to pass around.

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Real Estate Guy : This place is great if you like to drink beer by the pool.

Jeremy : I prefer wine spritzers.

Real Estate Guy : Really?  You’re kidding.

Jeremy : No.  I make my own… It’s all about getting my buzz on.

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We asked how we might be able to get a few free months rent.  Jeremy suggested that we could bang the agent’s sister.  We accumulated 17 free months.

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Jeremy and I saw a sign that said, “Ask about your our handicap accessible apartments!”  We asked about them. They then showed us only handicap accessible apartments; lower counters, three foot closet bars to hang clothes on, and a shortened tub. We said that we liked it, but that Grams would say the tub isn’t deep enough.

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