The Sounds of 1927

So last Tuesday we found out about our rent increase. Being an A-Type-overly-anxious-Virgo, I approached the apartment hunt in the same way I do most things I care about--with 120% effort, in an all-consuming, never-off-my-mind kind of way. (While this sort of tenacity makes for a productive life I think I tend to scare away more laid-back, B-type people. Like WBF and dumb ex MS. Hence my perpetual singleness.)

Anyways, I started looking for a new place minutes after I read about our rent increase. The next night I visited an apartment. On Saturday and Sunday I drove up and down the streets of the LBC viewing about a dozen places and making even more phone calls. And by Sunday afternoon I was convinced I had found it. The general was out of town, so I made viewing appointments for her return Monday night. We visited the top two places, turned in our application for the best one, and wrote a check deposit.

And now we have a new, cheaper, and in some ways better home. I'm so excited! Change is always invigorating.

But of course, being the A-Type-overly-anxious-Virgo that I am, I have two operating speeds: on and off. When I'm "on," I act quickly and efficiently, often allowing no time for emotion (I'm like a soldier). When I'm off, feeling starts seeping in--against my better judgment. And so last night while sitting in my room reading, I started to get sad. I love my apartment. I love its quirks and its charm. It's got big bright windows and lots of lovely built-ins. Sometimes you can hear crickets at night (sometimes), and you can usually smell the ocean when you leave in the morning. Lately, I can very faintly hear what sounds like a distant fog horn. It makes me think of my lovely little city guiding wayward sailors through thick fog towards their homes. The apartment is old--it was built in 1921--and since vintage things are always loved for that which would be considered troublesome in other environments, even the sticky light in our bathroom adds charm.

And because all of this is coming to an end soon, I started to think that maybe I would even sort of miss those sounds that sometimes wake me at night. Last night I made a little summary of what those sounds are. Here are some of the ones that stuck out:

1) The Phantom Car Alarm. This was big enough to dedicate a whole post to it back in March. There is a car that parks somewhere near our apartment with a very sensitive alarm trigger. It's annoying most of the time, but sweet and endearing to me now that I know it is going away forever.

2) The sounds of hoodlum gangsters speeding their lowered vehicles, blasting reggaeton and screeching to stops at the intersection,.

3) sometimes those people from #2 can't stop in time. And then there's crunching metal sounds too.

4) Sirens: Even though we buttered up the local firemen with cupcakes (the cupcake brigade's inaugural operation), the siren noises as they speed off to saves lives are annoying. I like that they're helping people, really, I just don't want to hear it.

5) The church bell alarm clock: someone somewhere near us has an alarm clock that sounds like church bells chiming. They like to wake up around 5am. They suck.

6) The sounds of the landlord and his woman doing it between 11pm and midnight. Now that the baby is born, they're back to their regular schedule. No need to say any more.

Maybe I won't miss this apartment.