Rent, utilities, bills: Prepare before moving in
Rent, utilities, bills: Prepare before moving in
Why that Monopoly scene in ‘The Cosby Show’ stands the test of time
He was fed up with Houston and needed a new place to stay. Depressed, tired and ready for a new life, he asked his father if he could come back to Chicago to start over again. His father agreed. Shortly after the move, I got a phone call from my mother. He wanted to see me. He was a childhood crush who I worshipped like Lucy loved Schroeder — from pre-school to our early teen years. And then he moved to Indiana. Fast forward 20 years and adulthood fully locked in, and we were giving it another go after he found me on Facebook. We’d had a rocky rekindling that was on-again, off-again for a few years. But even when we were “off,” he kept my mother’s number for emergency meddling.
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However, one of the first things that bugged me about him was how little he actually took time to plan his move. Even as a native Chicagoan, he somehow didn’t consider that rent in the Windy City was much more than living in Texas. So when his father, who still had access to a North Side Chicago apartment after moving into a condo with his new wife, offered to talk to his landlord, this should have been a good sign. This was an opportunity for him to not have to shop around for a new apartment and for the newlyweds to get back to — newly-wedding activities.
He invited me over to see his new place, and I popped up with a practical housewarming gift: a laundry basket. I wrote on the bottom of it. He accused me of being “territorial” to make sure anyone who saw the basket knew I was around. (I’m not saying he was right. I’m not saying he was wrong either. I’m just saying he had a handy laundry basket with a Sharpie message on the bottom, one thing to cross off of his to-do list.)
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It was a studio apartment with a small closet, fully furnished. While he walked around with his father, his stepmother and I pointed out a few things he could do to add some more room to the place. His father pointed out that he had an interior designer to help (read: me). But I could see my childhood crush’s face transitioning from indifference to sadness to anger. I sat down in a nearby chair, just watching his facial expressions as he talked to them. When they finally left, I wasted no time.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.