the rat who pays no rent
one week of living in brooklyn
It’s been a week since I moved into my new apartment in Brooklyn.
Since then, I’ve been to MUJI five times, the local CTown grocery store four, Ten-Ichi three, Manhattan twice, and Blink fitness once. If you couldn’t tell, I’ve been very much focused on building out my nest.
Our apartment is technically the ground unit of a condo, but it metaphorically feels like the basement. My bedroom window sits eye-level with a backyard that only our upstairs neighbors have access to, which gives off Parasite vibes. Unsurprisingly, sunlight is hard to come by, and I would say something cliché like “I never know what time it is!” if I didn’t spend most of my waking hours staring at glowing rectangles.
The upstairs neighbors are a young married couple with a dog and a two-year-old daughter. Our first formal encounter with the husband, A, came when my roommate and I got locked out of our apartment due to a lock malfunction. He heard the commotion downstairs and kindly offered us his backyard (the same one my bedroom window looks out onto) as a waiting room while we contacted our landlord to unlock the door remotely.
We learned that A worked on Wall Street for a decade before pivoting to (allegedly) owning half the doggy daycares in the Northeast. He’s a typical Ivy League finance guy—sharp with his words, unabashedly using clichés and curt jokes to tenderize the crowd. Unfortunately, I can tell he is obsessed with status and I don’t like him very much. But he seems like a nice guy.
The most interesting thing he said to us was also the one thing he didn’t elaborate on, which was “you know the story about S, our landlord right?” With dilated pupils and raised eyebrows, we leaned closer, waiting for the tea. He then proceeded to talk more about himself.
Later, we Googled S and discovered he has his own Wikipedia page. His claim to fame is that he was once arrested in high school for taking standardized tests on behalf of other students; a key scandal so widespread that it triggered large-scale reforms on how College Board ensures test security. Fast forward ten years, and he now owns multiple properties in the greater New York area.
Who knows whether the turn in fortune was a result of entrepreneurial grit or daddy’s money. What I do know is that I’ve yet to meet him in person, he’s responsive over text, and the one time we FaceTimed, he was poolside at a beach resort in Miami.
Some other notes:
There’s probably a rat in the wall. We haven’t seen it, but it makes gnawing noises at night that strike fear in the heart. If he ever makes it through, I’ll just direct him upstairs. Reminds me of The Rat Catcher.
I’ve found pockets of joy making my room and apartment more habitable. Phillips hue lights, cheap motion detecting lights, stackable storage drawers, and privacy stickers have done wonders for me.
In an attempt to maximize Feng Shui and minimize the likelihood of being guillotined by the AC unit, I was left with but just one choice on how my bed could be oriented. I love when life forces a singular option upon me.
Although it may not seem like it, I am immensely at peace.
The apartment is, by New York standards, affordable, spacious, and renovated. Any aforementioned gripes ultimately feel less like problems that need to be solved, and more like charming prerequisites to the kind of chaos that makes this city so easy to romanticize. There’s solace in being a meaningless part of a greater entity. Sure, plenty of people are doing “better” than you, but hey, you’re not doing too bad yourself, right?
In this new space, new start, I’ve found the time to rethink my priorities for the summer. I’ve been mind mapping timelines, placing little checkpoints and wins to hold myself accountable while still leaving enough room for life to unfold the way it tends to: slowly, then all at once.
A lot of change is coming. I’ll share more in future essays, which I plan to resume bi-weekly again.
For now, I sit in the darkness of my room, owned by an ex-SAT scammer, one floor beneath a finance bro turned doggy daycare magnate who still rents, typing away at my screen, trying to make something of myself.
There’s such a great sense of place (physical and mental) that I feel when reading this. Also, this line hits especially hard for me: “I’ve been mind mapping timelines, placing little checkpoints and wins to hold myself accountable while still leaving enough room for life to unfold the way it tends to: slowly, then all at once.”
Anyone can cook 🐀