I think New York City is one of the greatest cities on this planet. It sparkles like a gem and you will love it like no other, especially if :
A. you are under the age of 28 and
B. you have scored a rent-controlled apartment
C. you are not relying on the F or G subway line
D. you are earning over $250K
At a certain point, I got tired of having to schlepp everything everywhere. Most New Yorkers don’t have cars, so simple domestic chores such as picking up dry cleaning or buying groceries become a bit burdensome over time.
I got married and we wanted a dog and our great apartment didn’t allow dogs and the husband had given up his rent-controlled apartment and we were looking at about $2500 in rent. Rent!
PriorHusband had always wanted to be an entrepreneur, so we bought a farmhouse in Connecticut and started a little business. It was called InnSeekers and it was an early search engine built specifically for travelers who liked to stay at quaint inns and b&bs. It was 1995, right at the cusp of the internet craze. Our voicemail-driven business was quickly retooled to fit the internet. As the business flopped about, sputtering -- I returned to my love of writing. I wasn't sure what else to write about, so I started InnSanity, a lovely little romp-ish Carl Hiaasen-esque book about the joys of being in the innkeeping business.
As quaint and Marth Stewart-ish as it all sounded, it was the most un-fun phase of my life.
For starters, the quaint house was haunted. One of these days, I’ll publish the memoir of life in a haunted house, but lemme tell ya, electricians are very on to the haunted thing.
Apparently, ghosts like to fiddle around with electricity. Whether they are doing this on purpose or not, I don’t know. I do know that we had all kinds of funky electrical issues and I had many -- over a dozen, I think, I lost track -- many grown men, doing their electrical work down in the creepy basement and then I’d hear the tires squealing in the driveway.
The first time this happened, I thought, well, okay, the guy suddenly remembered it was his wife’s birthday or something, that’s why he’d leave so fast. So I called him.
“Um. Hi. You left before I could pay you.”
“That’s okay lady. We’re good.”
“But you were here over four hours. I owe you something ----”
“Listen lady. I don’t do weird shit. I don’t do the ghost thing, okay?”
“I’m sorry ... I don’t ... “
“There’s something bad in that basement, all’s I’m sayin’.”
“Don’t you want your check?”
“Lady, you couldn’t pay me to come back to that creepy place.”
And so it went.
And, no surprise, it is really really hard to run a home-based internet business when the electricity isn’t always to be relied upon and you can’t get anyone to come out.
One of the last guys I called, I’m giving him driving directions, and he says “Wait a minute, is it a bright yellow house on a corner, by the fishing spot?”
I knew where this was going.
“Um. I’m say more like, you know, slightly beige house with a tinge of lemon.”
“But the haunted house, right, by the lake?”
“Haunted is such a strong word. It is an old house, yes, it was built in 1698.”
“No, I’ve heard about you lady. No amount of money will get me out there.”
I did ask and, yes, they do all go to the same bar and they do all know each and they are quite gossip-y, if you ask me.
Anyway, for years I thought I was in an un-fun place because I was 30 or because I was allergic to the old wood in the house. But I was unhappy for much bigger reasons than that ... and after much soul-searching ... drove west mostly on a lark, a hunch, a gut feeling that the city of Seattle would do nicely by me.