New Apartment

Over the past year I’ve done quite a bit of bitch­ing about my apart­ment. That will all soon end, since I now have a new apart­ment else­where that is loads bet­ter than my present leaky shoe­box. Rejoice ye chil­dren of Ctown. Ver­i­ly I say unto thee, w00t! Any­way, on with the descrip­tion.

My new apart­ment is locat­ed in Tremont, a his­tor­i­cal neigh­bor­hood that is lit­er­al­ly about 5 min­utes from Down­town Cleve­land. It is still a rough around the edges place, but is being slow­ly and sure­ly ren­o­vat­ed and I think in a year or two will be the new hip place to live. My apart­ment is on the ter­ri­bly named Fruit Avenue and is locat­ed in the back of an art gallery. It is a two way street that has one way streets enter­ing from both ends. The only way to exit the street is to head west. This means turn­ing the car around if you enter from W. 10th street. Due to this crazi­ness there is vir­tu­al­ly no traf­fic; thus, things are very qui­et.

The land­lord lives above the art gallery and prob­a­bly in his mid thir­ties. There is anoth­er apart­ment above mine which is also avail­able for rent­ing. My apart­ment is the only one that has per­ma­nent access to the Eng­lish-style gar­den in the back­yard. My apart­ment has a back porch. It has wood floors in three of the rooms, lead­ed glass cab­i­netry, crown mold­ing and to top it all off, a claw-foot­ed bath­tub. The only things it real­ly lacks are a med­i­cine cab­i­net and clos­et space. I’m think­ing about ask­ing the land­lord to install a med­i­cine cab­i­net with mir­ror, one of those attach­es to the wall job­bies instead of an install into the wall deal. The clos­et space I’ll just have to deal with.

Also, this build­ing is appar­ent­ly haunt­ed. I kid you not. The dude said that he has had para­nor­mal experts out to vis­it and has had it “cleaned” sev­er­al times. Con­trary to most folks, I think this is sort of cool, if true. I’ve got no prob­lems with the spir­it world and it ain’t like any crit­ter has the abil­i­ty to hurt me. There just bet­ter not be any ecto­plasm on my gui­tar. All in all it appears that karmic pay­back is in effect. After slum­ming for a year, I’ve man­aged to get a place with ridicu­lous amounts of char­ac­ter, a porch for my hick nature, mul­ti­ple rooms to walk through, in a qui­et neigh­bor­hood in a groovy area of town. Huz­zah!