Online brochures fudge. A ten-picture slide show and an outline of a floor plan can’t possibly paint an accurate image. The building is impressive, the lobby and 24-hour gym are great and my apartment is bigger than I expected. But the wall-to-wall carpet, itself a problem, is beige. The walls are peachy beige. Beige is the black oil that will permeate my being if I don’t rid my surroundings of it, and pronto.
My concerns about Bob being rejected were baseless. The doormen are armed with dog treats and Bob has already flirted with Angie, the daytime desk clerk. While there isn’t a shrub or tree within fifty feet of the front door, I think there’s a little park a block away. That’s fine. Now. But when it gets ten below zero, Bob has already been told he’s taking himself out.
The building is a little isolated when it comes to shopping or restaurants. The Uzbekistan and Philippine embassies are spitting distance but if I want a quick candy bar, I’ll have to order in.
I took a walk to Dupont Circle, which is six long blocks away, and I was caught in a biblical rain. The sky suddenly dropped to four feet above me. The wind swirled in a circle, blowing leaves in a miniature tornado. I expected to see Max von Sydow march down the street in a long priest’s robe. The rain trickled for a half-second then it came in solid blinding sheets. I became disoriented and ran the wrong way down Massachusetts, further away from my building. Once I passed the embassies of Zambia and Turkey , I knew I was in trouble and grabbed a cab home. I was soaked but it negated having to take a shower tonight so, you know, cool.
Tomorrow my furniture arrives. After they unpack it all, I am heading to Home Depot for paint, a paint that will kiss that beige goodbye.
I like the symmetry of moving from one two-lettered city to another. It makes it easier for me to remember.
I’m here, I’m safe, and Bob and me will make this place a home, at least for now.