477. SCHOOLING MS. DESI GIRL

“What if he kills me,” I say into the phone. Partially with drama, partially serious. Since I have lived in the heights there have been reported, made the local news, murders. Not next door, but you know, 10-15 blocks away. The first week I lived here, when my mother was moving me in, a rapper was killed. Jack and I decided NOT to tell Mom.

“Who?” Desi Brother asks, somewhat distracted, somewhat annoyed. “Rama Rao,” I reply. You cannot be too careful in New York. Why else would Law & Order be a show and have two spin offs? “Who is this?” he asks. “A guy coming to look at my living room furniture. I have six ads on Craigslist,” I say. I hear him sigh, deeply. He is no longer annoyed, bored or distracted. I have his FULL attention.

“What time?” he asks. “In about an hour,” I reply. “Okay, can you please call me once he leaves? I am sure he is nice and everything is fine – but this is YOU we are talking about…” he mutters. “What is that supposed to mean?” I demand. “You are the one who lost her keys in her own purse. You have selective hearing. Under your watch a monitor in the office started smoking, you almost destroyed Mom’s washing machine…Town and Country...do you want me to go on?” he asks.

Silence.

“Hellooooo?” Desi Brothers says. I hear amusement in his tone. I am the older bossy sibling that he so rarely gets to put into line. “Am I wrong?” he asks. “No,” I finally say. “I didn’t think so,” he says and chuckles. “But in seriousness, call me when he leaves,” Desi Brother says.

476. THE BEST WAY TO LET GO IS TO DOWNSIZE

Later that night I am sitting at the computer responding to one of my furniture buyers. He’s Indian ramarao@nyp.org.(Pls note this is a made up email, to protect the innocent :)

Email from Rama Rao through Craigslist:

Hello – saw your ad for living room furniture. If it is still available can you please let me know what time will work for you? I live in Midtown West but work near the George Washington Bridge. Very interested in seeing it. Looking forward to hearing from you. Regards, Rama Rao

Hhhmm. He must work at Columbia Presbyterian at 168 and Fort Washington, so on the upside he is familiar with the area and won't hem and haw about coming WAY up here. Plus, I have to say, this furniture is three years old and in GREAT condition. It won't be a waste of his time.

I keep reading through my emails and see that I have another interest in the living room furniture, the lateral file, the wine rack and my framed “art” --- which really is cool posters that I bought a long time and as a true pack rat. I cannot bear to let go of stuff.

However, the best way to let go, is to downsize.

475. GOOD THINGS END, NOT BECAUSE IT WAS NOT GOOD, BUT BECAUSE IT WAS NOT RIGHT.

Okay. Now that my living room furniture is getting more hits on Craigslist than I ever did on the matrimonial site, I am getting a little worried about letting strangers into my apartment. On the one hand, I do live across the hall from the front door and next to the elevator, so should one of my “buyers” really be a murderer, I would HOPE someone, anyone would hear my screams.

The other thing is that it is creepy to let unknown people into your “home” and my apartment is “my home” it is my private sanctuary in Manhattan that houses “my things” – it may not be perfect, but it suits me and I do okay in this space.

So there is a SMALL part of me that is nostalgic. The neighborhood, the apartment, the area, the life, the super has been good to me ---  (excluding the crazy lady with the dogs, the ferret, the cockatoo, etc.). Not sad, mind you – this commute to Midtown and the UES is KILLING me.  But you know, nostalgic, the way any good thing ends, not because it was not good, but because it was not right.

While the time has come to purge, to change, to reincarnate, it still feels a little like loss.

474. DESI GIRL IS OFF THE HOOK

In the way my phone began ringing after my relatives put my matrimonial ad in the shaadi section of the newspaper last year, my phone again is --- off the hook.

This time, it is not me, but my furniture in high and hot demand. I mean, sure, my stuff is nice – not like Ethan Allen nice – but you know, could have been on sale Macy’s and Pottery Barn outlet center stuff. But I photographed my living room set, over-sized and over-stuffed couch, arm chairs and ottoman; and the my wine rack, my lateral filing cabinet, and my framed “art”, and then put it out onto Craig’s List. Who knew I’d get so many hits?

Which now has me wondering if I low-balled myself, and I undervalue my stuff, like I under value myself.

473. EVERYONE NEEDS TO LOOK GOOD ON PAPER

Everyone needs to look good on paper. Resumes for jobs. Biodatas for desi marriage. Rental applications for apartments. This is what I am thinking, as I have stopped breathing, dialing the broker back. He left a voicemail while I was out picking up dinner, $2 slice of cheese pizza, without my mobile phone. I never leave home without out – except today – when of course I am waiting for an important call.

“Hello,” he says. “Hi, it is Desi Girl – I am calling you back,” I say, words rush out of my mouth. Ever since I filled out the application I decided I really want this apartment and I was rather hoping that the universe and my landlord-to-be felt the same way.

“Good news,” he says. “You’re approved. They are letting you move in mid-month, just as you requested.” OMG. I am SO relieved for two reasons, one, I am no longer homeless, two, I realize there are some people who can do this, but I the packrat cannot move over night and it will take two weeks for me to move from one apartment to the other. Especially since now it is official, I have to sell everything but my desk, bed and dresser.

472. 40 TIMES THE RENT, FEELS LIKE DATING

I come back from another round of apartment hunting – in a wild panic. I have found an apartment that I like. It is in the high 80s on the East Side, faces the south side of the street, so great sunlight. Has laundry in the basement. It is across from a gorgeous church and on the fourth floor of a five floor walk-up.

It is, however, small. Really small. At 312 square feet it is 228 square feet smaller than what I am in – so in essence I am losing about half of my space. But before I can worry about moving my stuff I need to fill out the application and get approved.

I go into my lateral file (this is something that I won’t be taking to the Upper East Side) and begin pulling out my papers. In addition to needing to prove I make 40 times the rent (this means to rent a $2500 apartment, I need to have a salary of $100,000 – which I don’t, which is why I am moving into a teeny tiny walk-up apartment off of First Avenue) I need to make copies of my bank statements, pay stubs, retirement accounts and related financials.

I sit down at the desk and fill out the form, make copies, scan the document and send to the broker.

And then I wait. To be approved. Or rejected. Hhmmm – feels like dating.

471. DOWNSIZING - AGAIN

Later that night I am stuffing sour cream and onion Ruffles into my mouth, realizing that this upcoming apartment move has become problematic. In my Minneapolis life I had a 940 square foot, fully furnished. Somehow I managed to squish all that into my Manhattan life, but there is NO way I can get all this stuff into my upcoming, in a walk-up life in the UES. Very seriously I have to consider unloading A LOT of my furniture, including this couch that I have been sleeping on for years.

It strikes me that I have to probably sell ALL of my living room furniture – couch, the two overstuffed arm chairs and ottoman. And I doubt I can take my desk and dining table – so one of them needs to be sold. My filing cabinet too. Oh and most of, if not all of my framed art.

My phone beeps a text message.

Text from Town and Country: How did apartment hunting go?

Desi Girl: Okay. A little stressful

Town and Country: What part? Looking or packing.

Desi Girl: Both. Mostly looking.

Town and Country. You will find something.

Desi Girl: How can you be sure? I mean I am not frustrated – but I am kinda worried. I am not the type to live under a bridge.

Town and Country: I know you will. Let me know if I can help.

Desi Girl: Thanks, really thanks. Will you come see it once I find it?

Town and Country:  Yes.

I don’t know why. But I really needed him to say yes.