After three months of free tenancy on sister's almost comfortable couch, I am the proud renter of my own place. Of course, I am not eternally grateful for sister kicking my butt to move to California and sleep rent free in her bitchin' pad. Plus, I got total bragging rights for living in Venice. Yes, it is as bohemian, grimy and riddled with celebrities as you might have imagined.Through spectacular planetary alignment I found the lovely Fraser to move-in with. She is a bubbly, vivacious Aries who enjoys our 15 minute walk to get to the beach. The quiet little neighborhood has just been hit with an exponentially higher cute factor.
The streets are lined with towering, full trees and quaint houses covered in vines. Sounds of the neighbor’s wind chimes fill the apartment on certain nights. Couldn't be more pleased with the near full sunset is visible from our back porch.
Unless maybe we were living upstairs.
Our cozy two-bedroom apartment has a retro feel, lots of natural light and hard wood floors throughout. Although I have yet to find a bed, the air mattress will do as long as I have the freedom to put my stuff wherever I want and have boys over. Take that big sister.The shower does sound like the furies are going to come flying out of it every time you turn it on. The first time I heard the wailing I crouched to cover my vitals and looked for any flying banshees that have entered the room. We’re working on it.
Out back there is a lovely courtyard with multiple plant arrangements. The light is perfect for all the veggies, herbs and succulents that I want to plant. So far my arrangement consists of a cactus brought as a housewarming gift from Michigan (thank you Ben), an adorable unidentified
succulent and some collected pieces of ice plant that Sarah brought back from our trip to Pismo Beach.
When the pots are on the ground, I can’t see them until I walk to the ledge of the porch. This defeats the purpose, so I move them back. Sneaky neighbors.
I blame the cantankerous guy who lives upstairs. I can’t remember his name so let’s call him Darryl. He gets so agitated by our boisterous talking that he stomps on the floor.
Pause for ridiculous laughter.
I am going to invest in a special broom so that I can communicate back to him by knocking the handle on the ceiling. Call it a battle of wills between floors. Our hopes for a real-life recreation of Friends is finally being realized (true Friends fans will remember the cranky downstairs neighbor who for some reason always wore a robe).
Maybe the next time he stomps, I will rush upstairs in apparent fright. When he answers I will look him up and down. Then ask if he’s alright because I heard what sounded like a fall, which may have resulted in injury. Upon explanation I will politely request that he refrains from stomping about as we enjoy a calm environment.
He does however seem to be building an ark by day. The clanking from above can only be made by the heavy machinery he sporadically drops on the floor. He may also be loading the ark full of bowling balls.
Being the understanding neighbor I am, I haven’t brought it up.
The apartment is still pretty empty, not for the lack of yard sailing and curb cruising. Anyone in LA County that has a box spring, bed frame, side table, lamp of any kind or coffee table, let me know. I’m not picky.
At least we don’t have to entertain by sitting on the floor picnic style like I did for NYE. Fraser’s mom gave us a couch and beautiful kitchen table to use.
Best. Roommate. Ever.
Especially if she remembers to turn the lights off when leaves a room. Ahem.
Fraser, I promise I didn’t know that the tenacious ice plant is ravaging the wilds of coastal California. We just thought it looked neat.
Said plants have also started a covert battle with one of the neighbors. I keep putting them on the ledge, so we can see their beauty from the window. It makes me smile.
Said plants have also started a covert battle with one of the neighbors. I keep putting them on the ledge, so we can see their beauty from the window. It makes me smile.
Someone who does not share this sentiment keeps
moving the pots onto the ground. This has now happened multiple times.
When the pots are on the ground, I can’t see them until I walk to the ledge of the porch. This defeats the purpose, so I move them back. Sneaky neighbors.
I blame the cantankerous guy who lives upstairs. I can’t remember his name so let’s call him Darryl. He gets so agitated by our boisterous talking that he stomps on the floor.
Pause for ridiculous laughter.
I am going to invest in a special broom so that I can communicate back to him by knocking the handle on the ceiling. Call it a battle of wills between floors. Our hopes for a real-life recreation of Friends is finally being realized (true Friends fans will remember the cranky downstairs neighbor who for some reason always wore a robe).
Maybe the next time he stomps, I will rush upstairs in apparent fright. When he answers I will look him up and down. Then ask if he’s alright because I heard what sounded like a fall, which may have resulted in injury. Upon explanation I will politely request that he refrains from stomping about as we enjoy a calm environment.
He does however seem to be building an ark by day. The clanking from above can only be made by the heavy machinery he sporadically drops on the floor. He may also be loading the ark full of bowling balls.
Being the understanding neighbor I am, I haven’t brought it up.
The apartment is still pretty empty, not for the lack of yard sailing and curb cruising. Anyone in LA County that has a box spring, bed frame, side table, lamp of any kind or coffee table, let me know. I’m not picky.
At least we don’t have to entertain by sitting on the floor picnic style like I did for NYE. Fraser’s mom gave us a couch and beautiful kitchen table to use.
Best. Roommate. Ever.
Especially if she remembers to turn the lights off when leaves a room. Ahem.
