But you know what else is miserable? Living in one of the worst neighbourhoods in Toronto. Two years ago, when I moved into my place I didn't know quite how sketchy the area was. I knew it was a bit rough, but I also knew that since I literally had one day to find a place to live, thanks to my Dad's screw-up, I likely wasn't going to do much better. My priorities were to be walking distance from work, and to pay less than $1000 inclusive for a one bedroom with a balcony in downtown Toronto. I found that. I also got the bonus of a pool.
However, I also got the experience of living a half a block away from the mission. I've witnessed drug deals and hooking, arrests for various types of offenses. In two years I walked outside my apartment after 10pm by myself twice. I was very careful. I learned that certain streets are safter to walk on than others, and certain sides of the street are better as well. But, I also learned a lot of different things. After awhile, you come to know and recognize a neighbourhood, and the people within it, as they recognize you. People in my area face all sorts of mental health challenges, of abject poverty, or drug addiction. I came to understand these issues a lot more, and much of my fear was broken down. I was still careful, but more conscious of the reality of the situation.
That being said, the building itself was pretty terrible. It has the most terrifying elevators you've ever encountered. Ok, maybe second most. Its a rough ride. The doors get stuck. I once was stuck in an elevator, and I had some nachos and salsa, and a couple girls in there had a 12 pack of beer, and we were like, "well, at least we can have a party if we don't get out". A minute later the elevator started up again. The man who was in the elevator expressed his disappointment that the elevator party didn't pan out. Amusingly, the elevators in my building are something of community builders. An elevator is broken, and you're standing in the hall, getting progressively later for work, and more and more people come and join you, having a common focus to bitch about caused people to talk to each other more. Raging at the building that has so many fire alarms that no one takes them seriously and actually evacuates during them is better done in concert with your neighbours.
Anyway, I am mightily pleased to be leaving my building, but packing, packing sucks. Putting your life into boxes and taking stock of the things you have to tie you down, getting sweaty and sometimes dirty, and realizing that you keep stupid things from time to time (like 27 mismatched socks. WHY? WHY???). Hauling and moving and worrying about the timing and logistics, its just not fun.
What should be fun is my new place. I'm going to be living with friends again, which will be a very nice update from living alone. I've enjoyed living alone, but I think that my new place will have a great balance. It will be in a far better neighbourhood with people I really enjoy and no more elevators or fire alarms. And, I'll admit, no longer living next door to the mission will be a lovely side bonus as well.
But booooo packing.
Eff, man, at least you had help!
ReplyDeletePlus I am certain I have in excess of 27 mismatched socks, even post-move, since I ran out of sorting time.