belltown

So, what of it if I have moved three times in about about 14 months?

WHAT OF IT I SAY!

Last week, between being Death Shepherdess and Semi-Death Shepherdess (note to self: ending argument with one's significant other by jumping out of car is only reasonable if said car is not moving, as opposed to going forty miles an hour on asphalt) I found a new place to live.

Glossing over for the time being why I found a new place to live, I must say I felt rather like one of those poor saps on HGTV's House Hunters. Will Jamie take scary ghetto apartment with high risk for break-in and become Seattle's next victim of violent crime? Will she take the shoebox in a beautiful building that says "I can't really afford to live here?" Or, the one with the great layout, quiet building, but pathetic, pixie parking spots?

What I quickly realized is that staying within my price point (roughly $700/mo) was going to leave me options that I might have dealt with in college or grad school in order to save money, but wouldn't now. I was gonna have to pony up a large amount of my working wage, something I was not prepared to do. However, as I am a huge homebody, it seemed very silly to rent a place in which I was going to be totally miserable until some psycho stalker came and put me out of my misery.

In fact, studio I lived in whilst attending Divinity School was a big studio, and, had the building been completely up to code (which I maintain it patently wasn't) and had a few extra renovations (bathrooms and kitchens entirely gutted, for one) I think they could have commanded much higher prices. As it was, with the "scrubbed away porcelain" charm of the tub and single kitchen sink with no garbage disposal, it was still a deal for $450/mo, as I could walk to class, and not bother with my car.

However, now that I am Gainfully Employed and aware of exactly how many stupid and scary people exist in the world, I want a place that is quiet, up-to-code, and after years of lugging my laundry into foul, smell, and rather scary basements, only to have the whole mess unceremoniously dumped onto the dirty floor or dusty tables if I didn't get there before Fellow Tenant Did, I have long since decided having washer/dryer in the unit is one thing I can't live without (3 years and counting, in-unit washer and dryer proud!)

I mean, I saw one of those condo conversion places charging $1300/mo rent for a one bedroom apartment without an in-unit laundry. There was a shared set down at the end of the hallway, but I'm sorry, what kind of person pays over $350,000 for a 700 sq foot piece of property on which you aren't even able to wash and dry your own clothing?

Probably the same crazy people who bought condos in the building I'm living in now, with the parking spaces which would barely be adequate if you drove one of those toy Matchbox cars, let alone a full sized vehicle.

I admit it, I had to compromise when it came to this place. I didn't get the furnished apartment (ergo, I'm sleeping on an air mattress. And also sitting on an air mattress. And eating on an air mattress, as I haven't a shred of furniture besides a glass sofa table David donated to the cause). But, the furnished apartment (in the same building) came at a price, too: apparently, the guy who lives above the apartment likes to dribble a basketball at random hours of the day and night. For hours. And, the all-in-one-washer-dryer doesn't exactly dry your clothes, and I don't have an airing cupboard (do they have those in America? I feel this is a strictly British term). Also: no balcony.

Granted, in Seattle, you need a balcony to enjoy the beautiful warm weather about as much as you need a swimsuit to bathe in Elliot Bay in December. It's damned chilly most of the time. However, psychologically, living in a 400sq ft space with one window might feel slightly depressing at times, and I hesitated, feeling I might do better in a unit with at least a faux-sense of connection to the (urban) out-of-doors.

So, I passed over The Furnished Place.

A few days later, I looked at my place, which is in the same building, but is slightly larger, has a "sleeping nook" for the bed, and California closets (in the bed "closet"). It also has a sliding glass door that leads out onto a common patio which I feel has "O Come, All Ye Stalkers" written all over it, even if it isn't on the ground level floor.

I'm in the corner of the patio, where NO LIGHT SHALL PENETRATE, but seeing as this is Seattle, I think that hardly matters.

One of my thoughts is to paint a wall in the living room a tasteful robin's egg blue (and then accessorize with chocolate colored accents) to mimic THE BLUE SKY I CRAVE DURING FALL WINTER AND SPRING WHICH HERALDS DEATH TO ALL COLORS GREAT AND SMALL.

Other bonuses of the place: a dishwasher (the house did not have a dishwasher, which I learned to deal with, but dishwashers are really nice for people who procrastinate, like me).

The location is much better than the previous place, which was residential, and not very walkable. I've lived in far scarier places (downtown New Haven comes to mind) but being able to walk to shopping, downtown, and even just going 'round the corner to the oh-so-Seattle coffee shop will be a nice change. Also, it's within walking distance to a bus that will take me practically to Work's doorstep in one fell swoop, therefore obviating the need to drive all the time. (Work is also now much, much, MUCH closer!) I am glad of this "I don't have to drive" bit, because the parking situation here is really enough to give me fits.

Granted, Belltown has a grittier feel to it than its urban sophisticates would like to believe, but it's not quit as gritty and grungy as Capitol Hill (I saw a really gorgeous apartment there, but I thought the unsecured walk out to the nearby secured parking lot might do me in one night.)

I've been here a whole afternoon, and people seem friendly enough. The women here sort of ignore each other, but the guys say hello and seem like the Seattle Guy With a Bike type, not the Microsoft Corporate Spaz type. Yesterday, two women had a strange elevator conversation in which they both tried to subtly brag about owning their places as "pied-a-terres" rather than primary residences.

I could barely surpress my gag reflex, and hope for the most part, ironically, that's true: means less folks around during the weekday. I'm guessing not all of the units are bought or occupied, as it seems unnaturally quiet. Or, it could just be good building construction, unlike in Florida, where I could hear pop music through the vents every morning.

I can't complain. After all, THE MONORAIL flits by the building, and the Space Needle is blocks a way. Sure, I can't see either of these Seattle treasures from my own window (I can see right into my neighbor's living room if they decide to open the vertical blinds, however!), but I KNOW THEY ARE THERE. Such reassurance!