how to settle a fracture
Feb. 11th, 2006 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
radfrac_archive_fullOn Friday morning I went for a small run, then walked along the water into a sunrise like a maze of orange light, curtain after curtain you shifted through towards the sea. The mountains more purple than they had any right to be. The water impossible electrified blues. The sky bright blue but with the intensity of evening.
I walked back up through Cook St. Village, grinding my teeth that the 2 Bedroom Apartment Available sign at one of the buildings in the village was still up, yet they'd never called me back. Maddening. What’s the purpose?
On impulse, I stopped at Bubby Rose’s. I asked after chocolate croissants and discovered they were on their way in a few minutes, so I sat down with the paper and did some househunting while I waited and drank my cappuccino.
There were more ads than I've ever seen. We'd been talking about getting the Sunday paper for more ads, but we decided later that they must put them in on Friday in order to make appointments on the weekend.
Then the croissant came, still hot and crisp, with the chocolate melting from the tears I made in it.
This adventure made me late for work, but it was worth it. Later in the day I called a couple of places.
I lost out on the suite in the heritage building whose singular flaw was having one bedroom with a ceiling only six feet high. (My bed is at least seven.) I did have a good talk with a landlord in an area we really liked, and he agreed to try to show the place to us on Saturday (oddly, no one seems to want to show apartments on Friday night.)
I had a good feeling about the place just from talking to him. It being an impulse-driven day, I ran over on my lunch break to see if I could get a sense of it. It was in a funny little apartment building, maybe dating from the 50's. The patio opened onto the parking lot, which was not thrilling, but what I saw of the inside was all limpid southern light and honey-coloured oak floors. I liked it enough to fire off several emails to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
inlandsea making the case for it. She didn't actually get a chance to read them, so I repeated these scintillating arguments later on that evening, when we got together--ostensibly to do more searching, but in fact to eat pizza and hope.
Around seven, he called and said we could see it the next morning beforeinlandsea went to work.
"I want to come with you!" said Leirdal, who was helping us with the pizza.
"It's at 8:45 am." I said.
"Tell me all about it!" she said.
All about it
I notice that any number of places that aren't listed as basement suites more or less turn out to be basement suites when you get there. This one is what you might call garden level, if there were a garden and not just a wee patio (and a nice sort of stepping-stone path next to a hedge along the side.)
But it doesn't feel basement-y. The floors are a little cold, but the windows are at normal height, and the front room especially gets fabulous southwest light. The living room/dining room makes an L around a decent-sized kitchen area with lots of cupboards, a huge fridge, and some silly linoleum. There's a huge closet in the living room, two more in the hall, and one in each bedroom--and a storage locker option. Having lots of storage always makes my packratty soul feel safe.
Bedrooms of equitable size (score), a huge soaker tub with jets, no immediate neighbors in back or on the side (just above.)
So we saw it, we enthused sedately, we filled out a form, and then we went off to Hope some more. And this afternoon he called. Ours the golden floors. Ours the southern sun, the soaker tub, the really rather adorable little sunken patio--ours, ours, ours!
And yours too, of course, compatriots. It hasn't told us its name yet, but when we know, you know you'll be the first to be invited across the threshhold.
The thing to know about it
One thing that drew us is slightly odd. The last tenant was a newspaperman of the old school--a tie-over-the-shoulder, cigar-chomping (really! actual cigars! before they were stupid) beloved curmudgeonly journalist. I imagine him a little Harold Ross-like. He died not long ago. That is how the suite came to be vacant and advertised for the first time on Friday. When the landlord told me about the tenant, I did some googling and read up on him.
I like--we both like--this idea of taking up his path a little, of continuing to have writers in the space. People who are curious about him and friendly to his memory, and who would think about his life and what the apartment would have meant to him. Who would appreciate his having been there. I hope that's not ghoulish. It just seemed friendly.
As we said to ourselves, since it's us, we're pretty much certain to have a ghost--so why not have a cool one?
{rf}
I walked back up through Cook St. Village, grinding my teeth that the 2 Bedroom Apartment Available sign at one of the buildings in the village was still up, yet they'd never called me back. Maddening. What’s the purpose?
On impulse, I stopped at Bubby Rose’s. I asked after chocolate croissants and discovered they were on their way in a few minutes, so I sat down with the paper and did some househunting while I waited and drank my cappuccino.
There were more ads than I've ever seen. We'd been talking about getting the Sunday paper for more ads, but we decided later that they must put them in on Friday in order to make appointments on the weekend.
Then the croissant came, still hot and crisp, with the chocolate melting from the tears I made in it.
This adventure made me late for work, but it was worth it. Later in the day I called a couple of places.
I lost out on the suite in the heritage building whose singular flaw was having one bedroom with a ceiling only six feet high. (My bed is at least seven.) I did have a good talk with a landlord in an area we really liked, and he agreed to try to show the place to us on Saturday (oddly, no one seems to want to show apartments on Friday night.)
I had a good feeling about the place just from talking to him. It being an impulse-driven day, I ran over on my lunch break to see if I could get a sense of it. It was in a funny little apartment building, maybe dating from the 50's. The patio opened onto the parking lot, which was not thrilling, but what I saw of the inside was all limpid southern light and honey-coloured oak floors. I liked it enough to fire off several emails to
inlandsea making the case for it. She didn't actually get a chance to read them, so I repeated these scintillating arguments later on that evening, when we got together--ostensibly to do more searching, but in fact to eat pizza and hope.Around seven, he called and said we could see it the next morning before
inlandsea went to work."I want to come with you!" said Leirdal, who was helping us with the pizza.
"It's at 8:45 am." I said.
"Tell me all about it!" she said.
All about it
I notice that any number of places that aren't listed as basement suites more or less turn out to be basement suites when you get there. This one is what you might call garden level, if there were a garden and not just a wee patio (and a nice sort of stepping-stone path next to a hedge along the side.)
But it doesn't feel basement-y. The floors are a little cold, but the windows are at normal height, and the front room especially gets fabulous southwest light. The living room/dining room makes an L around a decent-sized kitchen area with lots of cupboards, a huge fridge, and some silly linoleum. There's a huge closet in the living room, two more in the hall, and one in each bedroom--and a storage locker option. Having lots of storage always makes my packratty soul feel safe.
Bedrooms of equitable size (score), a huge soaker tub with jets, no immediate neighbors in back or on the side (just above.)
So we saw it, we enthused sedately, we filled out a form, and then we went off to Hope some more. And this afternoon he called. Ours the golden floors. Ours the southern sun, the soaker tub, the really rather adorable little sunken patio--ours, ours, ours!
And yours too, of course, compatriots. It hasn't told us its name yet, but when we know, you know you'll be the first to be invited across the threshhold.
The thing to know about it
One thing that drew us is slightly odd. The last tenant was a newspaperman of the old school--a tie-over-the-shoulder, cigar-chomping (really! actual cigars! before they were stupid) beloved curmudgeonly journalist. I imagine him a little Harold Ross-like. He died not long ago. That is how the suite came to be vacant and advertised for the first time on Friday. When the landlord told me about the tenant, I did some googling and read up on him.
I like--we both like--this idea of taking up his path a little, of continuing to have writers in the space. People who are curious about him and friendly to his memory, and who would think about his life and what the apartment would have meant to him. Who would appreciate his having been there. I hope that's not ghoulish. It just seemed friendly.
As we said to ourselves, since it's us, we're pretty much certain to have a ghost--so why not have a cool one?
{rf}
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happy day
Date: 2006-02-12 06:39 pm (UTC)It finally properly snowed the way it's supposed to out here, but only about 12 centimetres. They somehow managed to declare an emergency and tow a bunch of people's cars who were parked on the snow emergency route. Go figure. You'd think this happens once in awhile.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 09:25 pm (UTC)I am delighted for any number of reasons: Firstly, of course, that you and Sea got the place you wanted. Secondly, you will be sticking around Victoria--you really made my little old heart sink when you were planning on up-rooting.
Not, of course, that you shouldn't uproot if you want to. Ignore my selfishness.
love,
Bee
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 05:43 am (UTC)That was an awful, awful sentence. But it meant well.
{rf}
no subject
Date: 2006-02-13 06:04 pm (UTC)And I second the above comments re: uprooting.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 04:42 am (UTC)-Ben
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 05:42 am (UTC)I do have a suggestion for a name, but I want to check it with
{rf}
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 06:59 pm (UTC)-Ben
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 09:54 pm (UTC)I've lived in a couple of those in town -- one over on Princess and one on McClure. On McClure I had the front room, which was really very nice -- great tall windows and hardwood floors. If I'd had any furniture, it would have been quite a nice place to live.
Victoria is an excellent source of odd housing.
{rf}
no subject
Date: 2006-02-15 01:00 am (UTC)-Ben