Okay, it has been WEEKS since I have written a post, but I have a very good excuse for my negligence. Let me rewind back to the beginning of January…
So, this all started out with my roommate telling me he was moving out of our amazing 2 bedroom in Hell’s Kitchen. I was devastated for a few reasons:
- I didn’t want to see him go because we had made such a nice little home for ourselves!
- The apartment was FINALLY all set up after months and months of decorating, hammering, and drilling
- I now had to find a roommate in less than 2 weeks to fill the spot before our new lease renewed on the 6th of February.
Okay, we lived in a co-op and our co-op “claimed” that it could take UP to 30 days to process a new tenants application… 30 DAYS. So, either way, I was royally screwed. Why? Cuz I had 2 weeks to find someone before our lease was up and a 30 day processing time for that new tenants application… yea, you do the math. Now, let me fast-forward to January 29th – my 24th birthday:
- Hooray! I found a roommate with a cute little puppy named rizzo and it seemed to be moving smoothly on her end with the absurd co-op paperwork.
- Met with my landlord to discuss the transition of tenants and some things I wanted fixed up in the apt, he was ALL for it!
I celebrated my birthday that night with my NYC default, Sarah. It was fab- we had dinner and prosecco and chatted the night away. Woke up the next day and had that extra little “pep” in my step. My new roommate was giving me the paperwork that day to give to our management office. Everything was going great:
- new roommate, check √
- gettin’ my hair did’ for my birthday, check √
- killer Zumba class workout with my favorite instructor, check √
Not gonna lie, I was having a pretty fabulous day. Until this happened (Maen is my landlord):
Text message from Maen: please call me need to talk about the apartment
I called, he said he would call me back in a minute
The conversation that followed blew my mind:
Maen: “Hi Stevie, I am very sorry, but I have to move into the apartment.”
Me: “Um excuse me, can you say that again I didn’t hear you clearly.”
Maen: ” I need to move into Justin’s room”
Me: “Oh, uhhhh okay…”
Maen: ” I am sorry that this is so last minute, you can either live with me or you can move out, I will give you plenty of time to find an apartment if you decide to move. Take a day to think about it and get back to me.”
I’v had a lot of weird things happen to me, but this could be the one that tops the cake. Let me preface: my landlord is a 57 year old Romanian man who has a wife and two kids in college. Everything about this was wrong. And here’s the kicker – there was nothing i could do about it.
I cancelled all tentative birthday plans, called movers and started packing the next day. I was packed up by Sunday and out of the apartment by Monday. I was going away on a work trip, so the mover’s came Wednesday to pick up all my furniture. Luckily, my old roomie was there to handle this for me. My belongings are now in storage and I am homeless.
After my business trip, I went back to NYC to look for apartments, no such luck yet. So, here I am at JFK on a one way ticket back to Chicago.
and life goes on…