I thought it was only on shitty Fox sitcoms that you would see people living in apartments so bad you wondered how a person could spend more than a week in it before deciding to go all Jack Torrance on the mother. Then I fell into the glory of 332 E 95th Street.
Now don’t get me wrong, it can be worse (A LOT WORSE), but it is almost comical with all the things that have occurred in the apartment since we have moved in. It all started in April when we first signed for the apartment. We thought we lucked out so hard, finding a place that was so cheap and close to a large group of our friends on the upper-east side. Then, just like in the bible, we were hit with plague after plague after plague. I would like to note that with every plague, our apartment has received some sort of compensation so that we do not sue them. Just in case you were wondering why we were still even here.
The first plague was the floods. Within the first two weeks of living in the apartment, after a significant rainstorm the entire ground floor decided to take on water like the sinking titanic. The apartment took on over two feet of water. This was a plague that stuck around for a while, totaling around 4 major floods, which took claim to a good chunk of my possessions. This granted us an entire month free rent as well as payments for all cleaning costs for soaked items.
The Next plague was bugs. Somehow, and we have still yet to figure this out, there seems to be a steady flow of bugs into our apartment. Not like in a horror movie sense but rather an annoying occurrence that comes and goes as it pleases. My eccentric roommate Jill has taken it upon herself to tape up every vent, grate and possible crack in the entire apartment. Those efforts have only subsided our guests.
The third plague in apartment A was an explosion. I guess explosion is a bit of a stretch but either way I am going to stick with it. It appears that on top of renting out an apartment that loved to take on water from the outside, they also wanted to ensure that even on the sunniest of days our apartment could require swimmies. A pipe broke in the apartment causing it to rain in my bedroom directly over my bed. Soaking the bedding and everything around it. They were quick to offer reimbursement for the cleaning cost of my bed. However this left me bed-less for a little while.
The final plague (thus far) is employee incompetence. I cannot even think of a group of people that can do this job more poorly than it is already done now. On top of the general lack of skill or knowledge on how to maintain an apartment, this final “accident” was the crème de la crème. An employee, after spraying down the streets in a piss poor attempt to clean them, forgot to turn off the hose and left it in the boiler room. After a couple hours the boiler room became a small swimming pool that started to move into the ground floor. When two of my roommates finally realized we were taking on water again they immediately called the management company and started to move everything to higher ground. Once again this event left me bed-less for another period of time where they compensated me for my share of the rent.
I know all of this sounds bad, and perhaps some of you may wonder why we even stay here. I can only speak for myself regarding the matter but I stay because all in all it can be worse. This post, despite being a page long bitching, is not meant to serve as a reason why I hate anything, just a comical story of events in my life. As long as they keep paying for their mistakes and letting us live in this apartment for next to nothing it becomes very hard for me to complain. I get the chance to live in one of the biggest cities in the world without a job and have no problem sustaining myself. Very few people can say that. Just keep your chin up and hope that things work themselves out. Like Gene Kelly said “I’m just singing in the rain.”