Welcome to New York

Wednesday morning, I awoke to Sarah screaming out to me from
her room. It seems in the light fixture a mouse (or
rat as Sarah dramatized) was trying to fall through
his or her self made chipping away of the ceiling.
Eegads!

I was on the phone electronically paying the electric
and gas bills. She came out upset that I hadn't run
in....she saw me there with the phone against my ear.
I pleaded insanity.

So I called the landlord and listed the things that
needed repair along with the need to remove the
critter. I'd heard something banging around in the
walls for a time, and finally it had found an opening.

Normally this would have terrified and disgusted me
but I remember - when these rare moments occur - a
tenant on the third floor whose Fedders a/c I bought
for $20 and that remarkably worked for seven years
told me "that one gets used to hearing the critters
scamper around in the night."

Glue traps become my warfare when there's any
scampering heard on floors.

So the landlord's son came and put poison up there in
the hole and remarked how clever Sarah was to tape a
huge black trash bag around the hole (I did it upon
her request, but she retaped it for good measure).

So then Sarah and I went out to do laundry. With the
clothes in the dryer for 30 minutes, we decided to
walk down Court. Two blocks down I spotted a
furniture/antique store I had totally forgotten about
but always suspected it pricey. Turns out the guy has
been written up in the New York mag for his thrifty
prices for penny pinchers!

Eureka!

We immediately found a bookcase for Sarah's first year
of college remains and then there before my
eyes sat an overstuffed wide load turquoise chair! I
squealed like the mouse will when he or she eats the
poison and called Sarah over.

"Here's my chair!"

I've been searching for an overstuffed chair for years
to replace where a thin director's chair sits in our
living room. It wasn't, though, until I saw this one
that I realized this would be my vehicle necessary to
sit in the apartment hours on end and to write. Yes, I
would venture out to all the places on my list, but
I needed a place of my own within my
own walls, too.

I was staring at my spot.

It was $100. I asked the owner of the store if he'd
consider going lower since the top of the chair was a
bit worn.

"I feel like I'm giving it away as it is," he said,
miffed.

I looked back at it and realized he was right.

It was sweet.

Turns out it is from the 1950s. Love it. It's as old
as me. Then I looked down at it and was shocked. Two
nights ago I had dreamt of my dad and he was wearing a
gold ring with three lines in it, like wings.

On the chair at both bottom corners were the same
lines.

I think I have all my tools now. T-minus 11
days and counting, and I am ready.

Besides, with this addition, now I feel like I can
have my homegirls over for dinner and gab.

Life is good.