Re “Apartment Hunting Adventure, Part 2”
Dateline Boston — We saw apartments 3 and 4 on a Friday. The first of those was a three- bedroom that had a parking space in the back. It was up the block from the pet store and supermarket, which was nice.
Our laid-back agent met us and rang the bell of the owner, who lived upstairs from the apartment. The owner’s name was Mrs. Wong. A tiny, frail-looking older woman, her pants were a little short. She walked us slowly through the apartment.
The first thing I noticed was that the front door had a huge glass window. It took up almost the whole door, and that didn’t seem very safe or private to me. We walked in to a big foyer. The living room was next to that. Those spaces were nice enough. Then we waked into the dining room. BAM! It was purple. Not lilac. Not lavender. It was the color of grape juice still in the bottle.
As for the kitchen, color it depressed! It had poor lighting. It was a dingy, off-white color. There was a cabinet structure that must have been made in the ‘50’s. There were so many coats of paint on it, the corners were rounded. Oh, and there was a bottle opener attached to the wall. Mrs. Wong said with a thick Chinese accent and a laugh, “They drink a lot of beer, so I just leave it.” The refrigerator was in a hallway, next to a door that led outside. In the winter, you could probably save on electric bills by unplugging the fridge and just taking advantage of the cold New England air.
Moving right along, we saw the three bedrooms. One was actually lavender, and I think one was blue. I asked Mrs. Wong about painting. She said that people like dark colors, and after awhile, she just stopped painting after people moved out. She remarked, “One day maybe they do a checkerboard…” and she mimed a checkerboard pattern, moving her hands up and down. I cracked up.
The bedrooms were decently sized. The lighting was very strange. There was a light fixture like one sees in many apartments. Usually, the light is in the middle of the ceiling, am I right? The light in each of the bedrooms in this apartment was in a corner. And there was a pull chain, no light switch on the wall. Hmm.
The bathroom was just as depressing as the kitchen, the two rooms that sell homes when they’re on the market. The dirty shower curtain was ripped and displayed half in the bathtub, half out, off the rod. The toilet was industrial. I felt sad; we got out of there quickly.
We went back outside, and I asked Mrs. Wong how long she had lived in the house. “1970”, she replied. “All three my kids born in this house. My two daughter both go MIT.” She didn’t mention her son. Either he wasn’t as smart as his sisters, or he was still in high school.
We thanked her, and thanked the agent. We didn’t want the apartment, but we wanted Mrs. Wong. Maybe we could bring her to the apartment we’d eventually move into. It was a no-go for apartment 1, fingers crossed for apartment 2, and I Don’t Think So for apartment 3. I wanted to add the story for apartment 4 in this essay, but it’s too long and dramatic. You’re just going to have to wait.
Next time…apartment 4, in competition with apartment 2! Who wins? Stay tuned.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at her new address, snobbyblog@gmail.com
