2002-02-20 - 4:34 p.m.
On my way out to meet P for lunch, I looked in the bookstore, whose door was propped open, and saw the owner, Troy. I've talked before of how I love this bookstore, and when I first moved in my neighbor took me down to meet the women who owned it. (There were 3 of them.) They showed me the basement, and we talked a little, and then one gave me her number, if I ever needed access to the basement, or if anything happened while the store was closed. About a year later, I learned from one of their employees ( I know them all, they take their cigarette breaks on my stoop) that one of the owners was very ill with cancer. In order to cash out her share, they had decided to sell the store. They sold it to a friend of theirs, a young guy named Troy, and when Tracy died they put a touching memorial to her in the windows. I went and introduced myself to him, and he said, "I'd LOVE to have your apartment." And I said, "And I'd LOVE to have your bookstore. So we're even." We talk books while I'm shopping, and occasionally stop and chat in the street. We spent a half an hour sitting on the curb talking on September 12th. And this morning I told him about my job, and that I could finally start buying books again. I asked him how things were going, how he was liking his new life. And he grinned from ear to ear, and said, "I love it. I can't even believe that this is what I do. It's so much fun - I'd worked in bookstores for years, but this, owning it and being a part of it... it's indescribable. I love it." I'm seriously considering asking him for a little part time work. Just to fill in, once in a while. To be honest, I don't even care if he pays me. Hey, maybe someday he'll need a partner. Or to sell it himself. Stranger things have happened.I had lunch with P, who presented me with another quandry. He's thinking of giving up his apartment, and wants to know if I want it. Now, P's apartment is unbelievable. It's big, with a working fireplace and a huge terrace and a gigantic bedroom and lots of closets. It's exactly the same amount of money that I spend for this little tiny place. Oh, and it has central air. But I don't like the neighborhood. I like this neighborhood. Period. I'm not sure if I'm being stupid about it, but I'm leaning towards staying put. Actually, the boyfriend and I could easily live there together, and it would be dirt cheap - half of what I pay now. With a fireplace. And a terrace.
But I will miss this place. I'm just carving out my place here, where it feels like home. So I'm torn. Beau, if you're reading, tell me what to do. Thanks, sweetie.
I spent the rest of the day buying shoes (sandals, thankyouverymuch) and coffee and trying to track down a goddamn doorbell thingie cover, in vain. You know what I mean, the part of the doorbell that's inside the house, where you hear the ringing. Mine has no cover, and is really quite the eyesore. In order to get a cover, I will have to buy a whole new doorbell, take the cover off, and get rid of the bell part. Ridiculous, but I'm resigned to it. Except that I can't find one. Anywhere. And I will NOT take the bus to Home Depot, I won't. So I came home, and am going to chill out for a while before going to meet my friend Liz for dinner.
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last five entries:
done - 2005-09-16
playgroup, my ass - 2005-09-15
late, but heartfelt - 2005-09-13
she lives - 2005-08-18
cheese me - 2005-05-20