Monday, April 5, 2010

Big Apple or Bust

At the end of August 2005, right as Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, I finally moved up to NYC.  I settled on a teeny-tiny little room (only 8'x10') in SoHo in a 500 sq ft three-bedroom apartment.  It was a small space even by Manhattan standards -- it had originally been a one-bedroom but had been gutted and converted into a three-bedroom for completely unknown reasons.  Once I acquired a bed, the door to my room couldn't open all the way, and the itty-bitty closet actually stuck into the room, sucking up more space.  My room did come with one delightful bonus -- a window overlooking a park.  It kind of made me feel like I wasn't so boxed in.

Before I actually lived at 101 Thompson Street, I had to move up there.  On a Saturday afternoon my parents and I, very carefully and meticulously, packed up every inch of their SUV with all of my worldly belongings.  We had to be pretty creative about it in order to get everything to fit, and I had to spend the entire ride from Virginia to New York with my feet on the front-seat armrest because there was absolutely nowhere else to put them.  Good thing I waited to buy a bed until I got up there . . .

Stuffing the car with my dad.

 Getting creative

Stuffing myself in the car.
 Every inch of space used wisely.
We stopped at my uncle's in Philadelphia for the night and arrived in Manhattan at around 11:00 on Sunday morning, which is probably the only time we could have gotten parking in SoHo.  We managed to park right outside my building, met my new roommate and the craigslist mover we'd hired to carry everything up the third floor walk-up, and got everything in in record time.
 Unpacking the car

The morning went by so easily that we figured my parents we would back on the road in just a few hours.  My mom and I headed off to Bed Bath and Beyond while my dad set about to put together my desk.  We were sure he'd be done by the time we got back.  Um, no.  The desk, which I am currently sitting at, turned out to be what we now refer to as the seven hour desk project.  Oh Ikea, you and your wordless directions and ridiculously complicated "some assembly required" furniture.
About four hours in . . . 

In the meantime, I tried my hand at putting together the desk chair . . . which resulted in me sitting on it for the first time and having all of the wheels shoot off and spin around the living room.  Clearly my dad's handy gene skipped a generation.
Finally finished around 8:00 at night.

During the putting together of the desk, my mom amused herself by taking countless pictures of every inch of my new place.  At the time it was pretty embarrassing, now I'm kind of glad I have them :)

 The mailboxes

  Climbing the stairs.

  The living room and my roommates' doors.

 My door and the living room window.
 The living room and kitchen

View of the little park from my window.

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