Tiny oven, tiny cookies -- and my problem with priorities

It seemed to make sense to buy the "mini" chocolate chip cookies. The half-dollar sized things fit nicely in my teeny tiny oven. The whole experience felt very Easy Bake Oven. I never actually had one of those, but I wanted one.

I felt this was true NYC studio cooking.

Today I used a pan for the first time in my studio. Until today, I did not have a pan, since I hadn't packed it. I own one saute pan and it was still in the other apartment's kitchen. I've been sick and not able to walk the eight or more blocks, but today finally felt slightly better. So I went and got my pan, my spoon, my two plates and tupperware containers.

It's really made a difference having that spoon and I wish I would have gone back for it long ago. I guess I'm one of those people who don't have the regular priorities. I think most people would have done anything to ensure they had proper dish towels, bath towels, silverware, pans and plates. But with all the delivery, it just didn't seem more important than the other billions of things on my on-going to-do list. Moving is one of those things where you cross something out ot write on four more things.

I think the problem is the companies that suck. I had to call Time Warner over five times and after 20 days they are finally coming out to set up my internet. I was lead down several false paths to finally get here. I'm glad to have the promise of internet on the horizon line again (and many of you know of my quest for internet at my NYC apmt #1 -- and how it didn't turn out so well). Still, I'm hopeful. But if that was one call instead of five, maybe I would have had time to buy a new spoon.

But back to my messed up priority list...next on that list. Laundry is apparently low in priority. After getting this awful cold, barely able to move, I realized there was no possible way for me to lug my hamper of clothes, change, heavy laundry detergent, etc., down 3 flights of stairs and 1/2 block away around the corner and back.

So, after running out of bath towels (as I only have 3 towels total), I realized I would have to find another way. In the hostel when they didn't give me a towel (happened occasionally -- for $20-$30 a night you can't exactly expect a mint on your pillow), I just waited. Sounds strange, but if you wait long enough, you will air dry. Still, not the best option.

So paper towels it was! I'm not sure if it was Bounty or what, but it really worked well. It only took a few paper towels. I was impressed.

Actually, it made me wish they made paper bath towels. Think about it, fewer germs. How many times do you re-use a bath towel right? Yeah. Paper is the way of the future. They should start making those things. Not as big and fluffy as a regular towel, but it'd work.

Another thing I need to get is baking pans. Prior to bringing home my pan today, I had no way to re-heat delivery left overs. (I don't have a microwave yet). And I can't get anything delivered until my buzzer is fixed.

So not being able to use the top of the stove, I re-heated food in the tiny oven. But of course, I had no pans. Luckily, I had tin foil and found it was pretty easy to make a fast fake pan/dish thing. I made five or six of those and they all worked. and they don't burn much when you take them out. I also don't have any oven mitts.

Wow, I'm really realizing now how bad I am at this sort of everyday stuff. But I did find a way to use paper towels as a fake oven mitt and it worked fine (especially with the low-heat tin foil fake pan).

Both of my past apartments, however, had full kitchens of stuff that I borrowed. Guess I forgot about that.

In other news, yesterday sucked! I don't usually whine all that often, but it was one of those days. I was still very sick in bed, and I'd lost my voice. My buzzer didn't work. So this meant it was nearly impossible to get delivery. It's hard enough for them to take the order under normal circumstances, but my complications of not having a working buzzer to let them in, or a voice to call with...well. Not gonna work. There was a slim chance that if they could hear me on the phone, and if they agreed to come despite not having the buzzer, I would still have to go down three flights of stairs and back to let them in, and I didn't think I could make it. So I ended up eating all the scraps in my kitchen and putting together some strange things. And I ate the marshmallow Hello Kitty lolly pop my mom sent, despite it looking so cute. I was going to keep it, but it just looked so tasty.


Also bad, in the morning my phone stopped working. I recently broke down and finally got a Blackberry (as that's like having flip flops in AZ), and despite LOVING the thing, its email, text and phone all stopped working. I couldn't send texts to myself. And it kept beeping like a message had come in, but nothing showed up. I called Sprint and they said to take the battery out. I put it back in and got an hour glass symbol that wouldn't leave.

This happened right after my computer died. I love my internet and it's how I stay in touch.

I then freeeaked out. I had no way to contact anyone in the outside world. No phone, internet, text, email, carrier pigeon, etc. It was just me, sick in a room, with no buzzer, no phone, no voice. And being so sick, I knew it would be tough to walk a few blocks to a pay phone, or 6 or 7 blocks to the closest coffee place that had a rentable computer. I then panicked.

Finally my phone started working again, and today I felt good enough to take my computer into the little laptop store that is close by and got it fixed. hooray! I still sound like a frog, but I can make sounds again. So all is good.

And I have a pan, a spoon, and tiny cookies. Not bad.

Looking back...

I've been in a new apmt (a studio) for a week and a half now. I moved quickly after some drama that, though I won't mention details, struck fear in me in a way I've never felt. That basic human fear of OMG I don't want to live on the street. And it was all out of my control too, but the situation meant I needed to find a new place ASAP.

So I went on craigslist, and after months of stalking the perfect studio -- and seeing about 15 places and nothing working out -- I emailed three apartments and decided no matter how bad they were, I was going to get one, no matter what. I saw all 3 back-to-back that evening -- one in the Lower East Side, one in Soho (that was so scary, small and smelly it was like a large broom closet and looked like maybe someone had died there? and a second in the lower east side (with two college boy roommates, um...no).

Side note -- it was funny about the Soho apmt I saw. The ad said to meet the owner on the street outside of the building at a certain time. This small crowd of us gathered on this lovely Soho street. Shuffling around looking at our phones and sizing each other up -- would this be a war for a studio apartment? The owner let us in and all six or seven of us hurried up about seven flights of stairs. We bonded as we became exhausted with each flight. And when we walked into the smelly, tiny, dilapidated anti-Feng Shui room, we all looked at each other, said a mutual "No." And all hurried back down the stairs.

Then we saw a second apartment across the street (same owner). Only me and one guy who worked downtown bothered to give it a try -- everyone else left. Once again, upon seeing the shack-like smelly, horror-film worthy room, we exchanged another mutual "wow, this sucks" expression and hurried down the stairs. The guy talked to me a bit on the way out about our apmt. searches...I really should have talked to him more, as he seemed nice, but silly me was nervous and fled.

Anyway, so after that, and seeing this room where NYU senior boys were living (teeny tiny frat house) on bunk beds, I decided I just couldn't swing that. And then I luckily was able to get this awesome, though slightly outa my price range (need to get some serious extra income coming in this month) studio. Tiny, but with a wooden floor. Old building, but nice block. No laundry on the premesis, but it matters more to be able to live alone. Three flight walk-up, but I can use the exercise.

Tiny easy-bake-oven sized stove, but at least it's mine. Somewhat broken fridge, but all the shelves the condensation drips on -- are my shelves. And a place where I can put on a silly avacado face mask on -- or something, without fear of striking terror into my roommates friends who swung by for late night partying.

So by some stroke of luck, I managed to secure the studio. And much scary drama later -- there are many scams in this city and I thought I might be out a few thousand for a 24-hour period -- I finally had keys that worked and settled in.

It's been a crazy week and a half.

I then hired my trusty "man with a van" off of Craigslist and $200 and two days of packing and un-packing later, I was in my new place.

That first night was strange. Surrounded by my black garbage bags (as I couldn't find anyplace that sold enough boxes), and my desk and furniture oddly arranged in the center of the room, I sat there alone and must admit I felt odd.

In Phoenix, I lived alone for five years. But this was the first time I've lived alone in NYC. A strange silent sound hung in the air. It was combined with the euphoria of knowing I had the place to myself -- AND I could actually pee whenever I wanted! I didn't have to build in extra hours to my getting ready time slot in case roommates took an hour long shower before I could get in there.

It got much better after I scrubbed the place 4 times -- amazing how dirty some people can leave an apmt. I thought I was messy, but not compared to this. And now I feel happily settled in and cosy.

All of this sorta made me look at everything I've been through since November.

I've had a total of 6 roommates in 10 months, and three apartments. That's because my roommates would sublet their rooms when they went on vacation, so strangers would live there too. Plus, all the roommates in the six to 10-person hostel rooms I stayed in for three weeks. I must say, I no longer care at all who sees me in ugly PJs or looking horrid -- I just don't care.

I lived with:
a 30-something girl
a 40-something guy
A 20s girl and guy with their large dog
A 40-something woman
A 20-year old girl
Plus all of the friends/family members who crashed on the couch

And I arrived here really cringing at living with anyone.

So, to continue my overly dramatic reflecting...It was a dark and stormy night...lol . I moved here last November with one suitcase. I knew someone in Brooklyn, and had an Uncle I'd met a handful of times in Queens. I remember staring at a map of Manhattan -- it seemed blank to me. A collection of names of streets I'd never walked on. I remember feeling like you do on the first day of Kindergarden, where you sorta just want to go home, but know you're too old for that.

I remember every street being new, every thing being unknown and every person, a stranger. The subway was an elusive mystery I couldn't quite grasp. A snake of colored lines running around what seemed to be random directions across the city. I didn't know which way was Queens and which was New Jersey and the Hudson and the East River were just words. Uptown and Downtown took me a minute to figure out. I didn't get how you know which subway station goes where -- something about crossing the street? WHy??

I most of all remember after a few months, that exhausted feeling of trying so hard every day, but walking home alone in winter with a cold breeze at night, and watching groups of girls excitedly walking to bars. And wondering if I'd ever meet anyone here.

I must say, after these 10 months I'm even more in love with New York than when I got here. That idealistic dream didn't burn out, I wasn't the victim of some stereotype of NYC being great and then realizing I hated it -- nope, I love it even more. I don't know why, but I feel like, for now at least, I'm just suppose to be here.

I started playing soccer, which has been good exercise. And I finally feel like I've sunk some roots in.

I got to go to Atlantic City this weekend -- woo hoo! It was like a baby Vegas. We took the train from Penn Station to New Brunswick, and were going to take a Greyhound to Atlantic City (which is in New Jersey), but one girl's cousin picked us up and we drove the two hours. We got a hotel at a new hotel which was fun! They had three cute little orange flowers in vases. We ate an enormous dinner, had plenty of cocktails and played roulette (and I won $16). i watched for black jack and then played some slots (and lost $20). Then we went to a little club place.

I was separated from the girls at one point where I lost them after wandering through the slot machines. A random guy came over and was said he perfectly understood my situation -- he had seen us all earlier in the night, he knew I'd lost them and was trying to text them...and he was going to hit on me during this. Somehow, I found his direct approach refreshing -- must admit I like that about NYers. He put a bill in the slot machine while he found the restroom, to keep me from leaving, he said. And he was pretty charming, until the point where I realized we just weren't right for each other. But it was still really nice to have someone follow me around for a while, as that doesn't usually happen. Actually, I'm not sure if that has ever happened. He lives in the city too, on the east side, so maybe we'll be friends. He half way joked that he didn't date people on the west side of the island (as it is nearly impossible to get from the upper east to the west side). I don't think i would have found that funny a year ago. I would have said it was offensive and shallow.

I don't think I've gotten shallow, but I just like it here. So I don't mind that stuff as much I guess.

It was a really fun trip.

I don't think I'm going to live in NYC forever, but I think I'm going to always love it.