My Apartment Is A Gold Mine…

This is another column-turned blog post, like my shower column, below. I got a little tired of showing my headshot on here, and missed being able to insert silly images as per my discretion. I can’t tell you how much material my apartment has given me for conversation, for blog posts, and, obviously, for my column.

Here’s another look into life on 2nd St in Hoboken—

I have a little secret. Sometimes, I prefer the company of couches.

It’s not that I don’t love my bed, or my pillows (I have several including a fancy one engineered for side sleepers.) It’s just that whenever I find a comfy couch, that’s it. When you find that perfect ratio between cushion give, but not so much that you sink, where else would you ever want to be?

Of course, I blame my wealth of knowledge on the subject due to the fact that last winter, I spent a lot of quality time on the couch. Among my family and friends, I am known as what you would call a night owl. I hardly go to bed at a reasonable hour. But, my logging in of long hours on the couch was not from my nightly habits.

While my roommates and I have been very lucky not to have a run in with any serious pests (except one water bug we caught and another I swear I saw in the utensil drawer that mysteriously got away) we do have another annoyance—our water pipes clang.

Alright—it’s not like it’s on the hour or anything, but rather, it cannot be pinpointed, which adds a whole other dimension of annoying.

I call it our Woody the Woodpecker. There I’ll be, in my room, and there it goes—a repetitive tapping noise that sometimes fires off at the rate of what a machine gun would sound like. I’m can even hear it now as I type this on my couch.

Other times, it starts slow and creeps up, then tapers off. Think of it as the unpredictable barking of a dog, or a car alarm, where soon enough, you aren’t even keeping up with what you were originally concentrating on (like writing) but rather, just waiting for the noise to go off again. Cringe.

When I discovered this unfortunate situation, I roamed my apartment and played Goldilocks around the apartment: which piece of furniture was going to be just right to sleep in? The Lazy Boy, the couch, or the air mattress? Since the air mattress is a tight fit next to the coffee tables, and the Lazy Boy rocks too much, it was clear that my bed for the next few months, at least until the cold weather thaws, was the couch. It was a rough winter 2009.

This year, I’m a little more used to our pet woodpecker, but he still gets me from time to time. Every few nights when I forget to put on music, you’ll know that I’m definitely thinking about making those couch cushions a reality, just waiting for the roommates to retire to their rooms for the night so I can break out my neck pillow. (Also, for some reason, the noise is worst heard in my room, naturally).

Between the freezing shower that I call Chilly Willy, and our Woody the Woodpecker noise that lurks from the southwest corner of our apartment, it’s like a ‘50s cartoon showcase in here, from which, I will watch from the couch.

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