Life on shit block

I'm at a loss for topics today, the past few days have been filled with trips to the gym and home cooked meals. Nothing to write home about and apparently nothing to blog about either. So why not hop in the Delorean with me and take a trip down memory lane.

Crystal and I decided to jump into our relationship with both feet in the summer of 2002. The best option financially and roommate wise for us to move out, was moving out together. Much to the chagrin of old people around the world I'm sure. We got the blessing of 3 out of our 4 parents, Mike (Crystal's dad) was to be kept in the dark until we had signed a lease. Horrible I know.

In the hunt for an apartment the fan was our best option. Close to school and cheap. We looked at what seemed like too many places and in the end decided on a third floor single bedroom on Grace St. Looking back any of the other options we looked out would have probably been a better choice. After signing the lease and waiting to move in, I had a conversation with a friend of a friend that went like this.

FoaF: Where you moving?
Me: Grace St. a block away from the Community Pride.
FoaF: You mean shit block?
Me. Ahhhhhh?

Undaunted, we packed our things and moved in on the first of August. Hot, not oh I need to tap, tap, tap the toast to get it out of the toaster hot. Think hell on the sun hot. We were only allowed one 3000 BTU window unit air conditioner in our apartment. This was in fact the limit, not like the speed limit where the limit means plus five over, 3000 BTUs was the actual limit. We had to turn of all the lights and the A/C if Crystal wanted to dry her hair kind of limit. If we forgot to turn out a light or our computer was left on, the entire apartment would lose power. This earned me a trip down the wooden fire escape to the maintenance room in the basement via a back alley entrance. Not a pleasant, place unless your a fan of urine and B.O.

The heat in the apartment was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Being on the third and top floor all of the heat from the other apartments rose into ours. We had four rooms in the apartment and during the summer two of them were completely unusable. You entered the apartment in the living room and had two options, go left into the kitchen or go right into the bed room. If you wanted to live you would go to the bedroom were the A/C was. If you wanted to dance with the devil or see honey poor like water, then the kitchen was your best bet, as it was furthest from the A/C. Our routine for the summer consisted of sitting around in our underwear sealed up in the bedroom, taking cold showers (bathroom off the bedroom) and generally avoiding the apartment.

The fall brought cool air and an opportunity see the community. Our block had previously been the home to Richmond's finest drug dealers and prostitutes, but the city had placed a median to reroute traffic off the street. In the absence of dealers and hos, a large homeless population had taken up residence. Not an issue really, except for the large amount of empty Hurricane Ice bottles all over the block. The actual students that lived on block and the parties they had seemed to be the real sticking point though. Walking home from class in the evening it was not uncommon to see a piece of furniture on the grass next to the sidewalk. It was also not uncommon to see the charred carcass of that same piece of furniture the next morning still smoldering. We soon grew accustomed to the late night hallway parties that would be held outside our door. You would be amazed at how much sleep you can get with a pillow over your head.

The winter was mostly uneventful except for the heat. The company that owned the apartment also controlled the heat, as they paid for it. I guess there is wheel barrels full of cash in the apartment business because they cranked the heat to unbearable levels. We kept the windows open even when there was snow falling and had to call on a regular basis to get them to turn it down.

Spring was a light at the end of the tunnel. The city unblocked the street which brought back the hookers or rather manstitutes (hewhores). We felt a little less than safe, parking three blocks away on late nights, walking past our blocks gentlemen of the night. By the time the summer came around we were done with the apartment and living in the city all together. We signed a new lease in the west end and moved out a month early.

Now that we own a house and both have finished school it is easier to look back on our first apartment as a good experience. It makes for a good story and now we both know that we like our space, driveways and quiet neighbors.