the end of an error
Eight days from moving, feeling a little anxious about the amount of space we're downsizing to (I keep telling myself we're gaining the square footage of the Village) and the amount of stuff we still need to get rid of, Bob and I heard some news yesterday that not only encouraged us, it was something of a relief.
Our landlord at our Brooklyn residence has signed a contract with Corcoran (realtors) to sell the building. That's right to sell the whole building that we've lived in for the past 11 years. In the year and a half since he announced that he was doubling the rent, he never once mentioned the idea of selling the whole thing out from under us, even when he thought that he was stringing us along with the offer to buy our apartment from him if he went co-op. (I say he "thought" he was stringing us along because at the same time we were also stringing him along by not letting him know that we had already closed on the place in Manhattan, since we were never sure when the renovations would be completed.)
Had we not found a place on our own and taken the past year to clear out the stuff that we'd accumulated over 11 years, we would now be faced with finding a place quickly and moving with very little time to sort things out. What ever rent or mortgage we would have had to take in the pinch would most likely have been the same or more than the mortgage we now have in the Village for, no doubt, not enough space any way, and probably would have been somewhere out in Bed-Sty or Bensonherst at the end of a subway line and a bus transfer that didn't run on Sundays. I feel lucky! I feel very blessed.
After our initial excitement and gratitude we stopped and thought about our Brooklyn building itself and the many people who lived here over the past 11 years. The building will more than likely be torn down by some developer who will build a cookie-cutter condo high-rise with a Duane-Reade at street level. As much as we are ready to move on, as much as the building itself is structurally questionable, I had the distinct feeling that this was the end of an era.
Of course Bob commented that it was more like the end of an "error," because of how we've felt about living in "Broken" far too long. We both nevertheless feel a little sentimental, even though we are mostly relieved to have dodged a far worse fate than the one we have already found for ourselves.
Our landlord at our Brooklyn residence has signed a contract with Corcoran (realtors) to sell the building. That's right to sell the whole building that we've lived in for the past 11 years. In the year and a half since he announced that he was doubling the rent, he never once mentioned the idea of selling the whole thing out from under us, even when he thought that he was stringing us along with the offer to buy our apartment from him if he went co-op. (I say he "thought" he was stringing us along because at the same time we were also stringing him along by not letting him know that we had already closed on the place in Manhattan, since we were never sure when the renovations would be completed.)
Had we not found a place on our own and taken the past year to clear out the stuff that we'd accumulated over 11 years, we would now be faced with finding a place quickly and moving with very little time to sort things out. What ever rent or mortgage we would have had to take in the pinch would most likely have been the same or more than the mortgage we now have in the Village for, no doubt, not enough space any way, and probably would have been somewhere out in Bed-Sty or Bensonherst at the end of a subway line and a bus transfer that didn't run on Sundays. I feel lucky! I feel very blessed.
After our initial excitement and gratitude we stopped and thought about our Brooklyn building itself and the many people who lived here over the past 11 years. The building will more than likely be torn down by some developer who will build a cookie-cutter condo high-rise with a Duane-Reade at street level. As much as we are ready to move on, as much as the building itself is structurally questionable, I had the distinct feeling that this was the end of an era.
Of course Bob commented that it was more like the end of an "error," because of how we've felt about living in "Broken" far too long. We both nevertheless feel a little sentimental, even though we are mostly relieved to have dodged a far worse fate than the one we have already found for ourselves.
4 Comments:
My first house when I moved out of my parent's place was a mobile home/modular house/whatever you want to call it... I called it "me wee lil' trailer."
It wasn't much (17' x 76' of my pwn personal space) but I paid cash for it (using ALL of my college funds) and it was mine. When I moved out, I hesitated on selling it... I don't know why... it needed to be lived in, it held all the memories from my first marriage, and it became more and more broken down as time passed.
Finally, I put it up for sale. It sold quickly and the couple who bought were moving in to their own land. I was there the day they "hauled it away" and I was watching it roll away thinking, "FINALLY!"
At the same time, there was a small part of me that was sad to see it go.
You can miss most any place you've put any part of yourself into: a bad job, a dumpy apartment, a trailer, a clunker car.
I think what we will miss most about our Brooklyn apartment is the space we have had. It was very large and we went wild decorating it. What we won't miss is the draftiness, the mold, the neighborhood, and the sedentary lumps we became.
"sedentary lumps" LOL!
That struck me as funny, for some reason.
Off the subject, do you mind telling me what you (besides your photgraphy) and Bob do for a living?
I am a graphic designer and do some freelance photography, though primarily I do a lot of web design. Bob deals in antique photography. We both have MFA degrees, but haven't sculpted or painted in years.
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