I’m afraid of summer. Everyone tells me that New York is at its grossest in the summer. The trash piled up on the sidewalk heats up and stinks even more. The rats make their way through open vents and into apartments. The bugs fly in. The subways are humid and disgusting.
When I walked to work Monday morning, it was about 60 degrees. I was wearing a light button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. I was warm. Other people were wearing coats and scarves. It was low 70s when I walked home, then up to my sixth floor apartment. I felt gross. And I’m not even the type to huff & puff after walking up a flight of stairs. I’m just afraid this summer is going to be brutal.
On a rat note, I took out the trash last night – first time since a giant rat ran across my path (thanks to my roommates who have been coddling me) – I made lots of noise before I opened the door. Then I stopped there paralyzed. Too afraid to step into the trash area, I stood on the steps and tossed everything in the can closest to the door. Recycling and all. People keep telling me I’ll get used to rats, but today is not that day.
I’m already working on a must-have list for my next apartment:
4.No exposed bricks or pipes that neighbor bed bugs can get through (right, Quyn?)
I’m a journalist, content strategist, doting auntie, amateur bobsledder, fitness enthusiast, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.