The end of an era

By the time you read this, dear reader, I will have moved. This is the last column that I will write sitting at my desk here at 321A Humboldt Street.

My new apartment isn’t far. It is still off the Graham stop on the L train, but instead of turning right at the White Castle, you turn left and walk down to 49 Maspeth. I think it’s four blocks away.

Endings and beginnings are interesting moments to write about, especially when there are clear events marking them in your mind. I find them almost always bittersweet. Goodbye to the familiar and comfortable and hello to the new and potentially exciting.

I have lived here for the past two and a half years, and besides my mother’s house on Grassy Swamp Road, it’s the longest I’ve spent in one place.

I guess it’s pretty natural to get sentimental about things as they end. This is where I lived during my last years at NYU and my first years as a working professional. We’ve had two great Fourth of July parties in the backyard.

But a quick glance at the floor in our kitchen and memories of long stretches without hot water reminds me very quickly why we are all moving out.

I am absolutely dreading the physical activity of moving and have waited until the absolute last minute to pack. Anyone who knows me is probably not surprised. My soon-to-be-old roommate Robin and I are renting a truck on Sunday and spending the entire day packing and moving to our two new places. I have no idea how long it will take.

My roommates and I are going our separate ways and it’s funny to see everything in the apartment get divvied up. It’s almost as if nametags get added to everything, big to small.

“That’s my couch.”

“That’s my TV.”

“That’s my spoon.”

Robin and Rob found a place off the Lorimer stop. Ryan is moving to New Jersey. I wonder how much we will all see each other when we don’t live together anymore. I wonder how our friendship will change.

My new place is smaller than this one, a two-bedroom rather than a four with one roommate rather than three. (His name is Mark and you’ll probably be hearing about him from time to time.) He was the honorary fifth roommate at Humboldt Street, frequenting our living room almost daily.

It’s always a very interesting experience trying to find an apartment. I’ve done it three times now and extravagantly hope that I never have to do it again. It’s so stressful! I looked intensely for two days, mostly on craigslist.

I tried to see as many places as I possibly could, and my feet are still sore from all of the walking I did that day, even though it was a week and a half ago. New York City real estate is a whole world with a completely crazy cast of characters.

We met our new landlord for an interview in a strip mall parking lot in Flushing, Queens and signed our lease in a nearby pizza place. Why? Because that’s where she wanted to meet. She seems a bit eccentric but she couldn’t possibly be any worse than my old landlord.

I am counting down the days until the move (two) and wondering after every action if it’s the last time I’ll be doing it here.

“This is probably the last time I will make mac and cheese in this apartment.

“This is probably the last time I’ll do laundry/watch a movie/take a shower.”

I was helping a friend move out of her place a week ago. We were just about done and she said that the last thing she needed to do before she was left was to thank the apartment for all of the good things that had happened to her while she was there.

“It’s nice to have some sort of closure,” she said.

I liked the idea immediately.

Thanks Humboldt Street, it’s been a blast. Looking forward to seeing you around the neighborhood.

- Zachary Stuart-Pontier